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UNIV. OF
TORONTO
LIBRARY

THE MONIST

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE

DEVOTED TO THE PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE

VOLUME XX.

CHICAGO

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY
LONDON AGENTS

KXGAN PAUL, TKXNCH, TRUBNM * CO., LTD.
1910

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING Co.
1909-1910

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XX.

ARTICLES AND AUTHORS.

FAGX

Alexander, Hartley B. Truth and Nature 585

Ames, Edward Scribner. The Psychological Basis of Religion 242

Andrews, W. S. Notes on Oddly- Even Magic Squares, 126; The Con-
struction of Magic Squares and Rectangles by the Method of "Com-
plementary Differences," 434.
Aristotle's "Entelechy" and Plato's "Idea" (With Editorial Comment).

By Samuel Ward Boardman 297

Arreat, Lucien. On Poincare's "Mathematical Creation," 615; Philosophy
in France During the Last Decade, 551.

Barry, Phillips. Psanterin According to Daniel iii. 5 402

Billia, L. M. On the Problem and Method of Psychology of Religion, 135 ;
Psychology More than a Science, 153.

Bjorklund's "Death and Resurrection." By Joseph Clements 630

Boardman, Samuel Ward. Plato's "Idea" and Aristotle's "Entelechy" . . . 297

Bolyai, Lobatchevsky, Russell. By George Bruce Halsted 130

Boodin, John E. Pragmatic Realism (With Editorial Comment) 602

Carus, Paul. Du Bose, William, a Christian Philosopher 144

A Monistic Conception of Life After Death (In Reply to

Bjorklund and Fries) 450

Formal Thought the Basis of Kenlore 574

Historicity of Jesus 633

The Nature of Logical and Mathematical Thought 33

N on- Aristotelian Logic 158

Person and Personality 364

The Pragmatist View of Truth 139

Prof. William James (Obituary) 638

Rock of Ages, The 231

Truth 481

Truth (Poem) I

Gements, Joseph. Bjorklund's "Death and Resurrection" 630

Construction of Magic Squares and Rectangles by the Method of "Com-
plementary Differences." By W. S. Andrews 434

Cornill, C. H. Moses 161

Criminological Institute in St. Petersburg, The Establishment of the. By
Simeon Grusenberg 472

IV THE MONIST.

VAGI

Death and Resurrection. By J. E. Fries 279

"Death and Resurrection," Bjorklund's. By Joseph Clements 630

Du Bose, William Porcher, a Christian Philosopher. By Paul Carus .... 144

Formal Thought the Basis of Kenlore. By Paul Carus 574

Four- fold Magic. By C. Planck 617

Fourth Dimension, Magic in the. By H. M. Kingery 309

Fries. J. E. Death and Resurrection 279

Future of Mathematics. By H. Poincare 76

Grusenberg, Simeon. The Establishment of the Criminological Institute

in St. Petersburg 472

Halsted, George B. Bolyai, Lobatchevsky, Russell, 130; The Unverifiable
Hypotheses of Science, 563.

Hertz's Theory of Truth. By Karl Schmidt 445

James, Prof. William (Obituary). By Paul Carus 638

Jesus, Historicity of. By Paul Carus 633

Jesus in the Talmud, The Followers of. By Bernhard Pick 263

Jesus in the Talmud, The Personality of. By Bernhard Pick 4

Jesus in the Talmud, The Sayings of. By Bernhard Pick 414

Johnston, Charles. The Dramatic Element in the Upanishads 185

Josephus and Tacitus, The Silence of. By Wm. Benjamin Smith 515

Jourdain, Philip E. B. A Mathematical Paradox, 134; Transfinite Num-
bers and the Principles of Mathematics, 93.

Kenlore, Formal Thought the Basis of. By Paul Carus 574

Kingery, H. M. Magic in the Fourth Dimension 309

Life After Death, A Monistic Conception of. By Paul Carus 450

Lobatchevsky, Russell, Bolyai. By George Bruce Halsted 130

Logical and Mathematical Thought, Nature of. By Paul Carus 33

Magic Circles and Spheres. By Harry A. Sayles 454

Magic Cube of Six. By Harry A. Sayles 299

Magic Cube on Six. By John Worthington 303

Magic in the Fourth Dimension. By H. M. Kingery 309

Magic Squares and Rectangles by the Method of "Complementary Differ-
ences," The Construction of. By W. S. Andrews 434

Magic Squares, Notes on Oddly- Even. By W. S. Andrews 126

Magic Squares, Oddly-Even. By D. F. Savage 119

Mathematical Creation. By Henri Poincare 321

Mathematical Paradox, A. By Philip E. B. Jourdain 134

Mathematical Thought, Nature of Logical and. By Paul Carus 33

"Mathematical Creation," On Poincare's. By Lucien Arre'at 615

Mathematics, The Future of. By H. Poincar6 76

Mathematics, Transfinite Numbers and the Principles of. By Philip E.

B. Jourdain 93

Mikami Yoshio. A Remark on F. C. Russell's Theorem 133

Monistic Conception of Life After Death, A. (In Reply to Bjorklund

and Fries.) By Paul Carus 450

Moses. By C. H. Cornill 161

Nature of Logical and Mathematical Thought. By Paul Carus 33

Nature, Truth and. By Hartley B. Alexander 585

Non-Aristotelian Logic. By Paul Carus 158

CONTENTS OF VOLUME XX.

Peirce, C S., on Non- Aristotelian Logic 158

Person and Personality. By Paul Carus 364

Person, A Contribution to the History of the Word. By Adolf Tren-

delenburg 336

Philosophical Aspect of Science, A. By G. O. Warren 217

Philosophy «n France During the Last Decade. By Lucien Arreat 551

Pick, Bernhard. The Followers of Jesus in the Talmud, 263; The Per-
sonality of Jesus in the Talmud, 4; The Sayings of Jesus in the Tal-
mud, 414.

Planck, C. Four-fold Magic 617

Plato's "Idea" and Aristotle's "Entelechy" (With Editorial Comment).

By Samuel Ward Boardman 297

Poincare, Henri. The Future of Mathematics, 76; Mathematical Crea-
tion, 321.

Poincare's Mathematical Creation," On. By Lucien Arreat 615

Pragmatic Realism. By John E. Boodin 602

Pragmatist View of Truth, The. By Paul Carus 139

Psanterin According to Daniel iii. 5. By Phillips Barry 402

Psychological Basis of Religion, The. By Edward Scribner Ames 242

Psychology More than a Science. By L. M. Billia 153

Psychology of Religion, On the Problem and Method of. By L. M.

Billia . 135

Realism, Pragmatic. By John E. Boodin 602

Religion, The Psychological Basis of. By Edward Scribner Ames 242

Resurrection, Death and. By J. E. Fries 279

Rock of Ages, The. By Paul Carus 231

Russell, Bolyai, Lobatchevsky. By George Bruce Halsted 130

Russell's Theorem, A Remark on. By Yoshio Mikami 133

Savage, D. F. Oddly-Even Magic Squares 119

Sayles, Harry A. Magic Circles and Spheres, 454; A Magic Cube of Six, 299

Schmidt, Karl. Heinrich Hertz's Theory of Truth 445

Science, A Philosophical Aspect of. By G. O. Warren 217

Science, The Unverifiable Hypotheses of. By George B. Halsted 563

Silence of Josephus and Tacitus, The. By Wm. Benjamin Smith 515

Smith, Wm. Benjamin. The Silence of Josephus and Tacitus 515

Tacitus, The Silence of Josephus and. By Wm. Benjamin Smith 515

Talmud, Jesus in the. By Bernhard Pick 4, 263, 414

Transfinite Numbers and the Principles of Mathematics. By Philip E. B.

Jourdain 93

Trendelenburg, Adolf. A Contribution to the History of the Word Person. 336

Truth. By Paul Carus 481

Truth (Poem). By Paul Carus I

Truth and Nature. By Hartley B. Alexander 585

Truth, Heinrich Hertz's Theory of. By Karl Schmidt 445

Truth, The Pragmatist View of. By Paul Carus 139

Unverifiable Hypotheses of Science, The. By George B. Halsted 563

Upanishads, The Dramatic Element in the. By Charles Johnston 185

Warren, G. O. A Philosophical Aspect of Science 217

Worthington, John. Magic Cube on Six 303

VI THE MONIST.

BOOK REVIEWS.

PACK

Archiv fur Rechts- und Wirthschaftsphilosophie 480

Borel, Emile. Elements de la theorie des probabilites 639

Deter, Chr. Job. Abriss der Geschichte der Philosophic 640

Dewey, J., and J. H. Tufts. Ethics 478

Eisler, Rudolf. Geschichte des Monismus 639

Haberlin, P. Herbert Spencers Grundlagen der Philosophic 640

Jacoby, Giinther. Der Pragmatismus 160

Knortz, Karl. Friedrich Nietzsche der Unzeitgemasse 480

Levy-Bruhl, L. Les fonctions mentales dans les societe's inferieures .... 479
Mach, E. Die Geschichte und die Wurzel des Satzes von der Erhaltung

der Arbeit 478

Mannoury, G. Methodologisches und Philosophisches zur Elementar-

Mathematik 639

O'Sullivan, J. M. Old Criticism and New Pragmatism 640

Pichler, H. Ueber Chr. Wolffs Ontologie, 480; Ueber die Erkennbarkeit

der Gegenstande 480

Rhodes, D. P. The Philosophy of Change 479

Ribot, Theodule. Problemes de psychologic affective 160

Schinz, Albert. Anti-Pragmatism, 477; Jean- Jacques Rousseau, a Fore-
runner of Pragmatism, 640.

Tufts, J. H., and J. Dewey. Ethics 47§

Warren, Wm. F. The Earliest Cosmologies 478

Weismann, August. Die Selektionstheorie ; eine Untersuchung 160

VOL. XX. JANUARY, 1910. No. i.

THE MONIST

TRUTH.

fUrpov avtyxmros-
dAA avOpwwov [JLtrpov TO "Ev KCU Hay.

Truly, the measure of all things is Man;
But Man is measured by the One and All.

Man is a microcosm, and he grows
Unto the stature of full manhood, only
When to the One and All his soul responds.
There is a gauge that measures man, a norm
By which the truth that's in him must be tested.
T'is the Eternal in the change of time,
It is the Law, the Uniformity,
It is the One in this great All, — t'is God !

Mind you, t'is Man, not men, that measures things;
Not I, nor you, nor any other being ;
Man only, Man alone.

And what is Man ?

Man is the type of mankind, — men's ideal;
Yea, men's ideal! —

Are ideals sham?

Deem you that only things concrete are true?
O, learn to prize the power of ideals
Which more efficient is than Nature's forces
And stronger far than footpound-energy.

THE MONIST.

Ideals are the factors of man's life;
They are no vain illusions, they are real,
Nay, superreal. Yea, they are Man's guides, —
And they, like guardian angels, help him find
The pre-determined goal of cosmic life.

Man, the ideal, is no transient thing:
He is the cosmic law assuming flesh,
The norm of being in a creature's garb,
An incarnation of the Deity,

Of that All-One which shapes and moulds the world,
Which manifests itself in motes and stars,
And thrills through all their uniformities.
T'is Man, not men, in whom the glory dwells
Of the great One in All,— the Man of Truth.

"Truth changes," sayest thou, and thou art right,
And man himself is changing with his truth.
Both change! for nothing is at rest
In this corporeal world of flux. And yet
Beware lest half-truths lead thy mind astray.

Truth changes as our knowledge broader grows,
As science gains in depth and definition;
But verily the new and broader Truth
Will never call the older Truth a lie,
For lo! it is the selfsame older Truth
As from a higher standpoint it appears,
And all the truths are after all but one.

Truth is no idol, nor an errant light,
T'is not an ignis fatuus, no comet.
Truth is a guiding star, a bright ideal,
And like the sailor's compass on high seas,
It leads us gently onward, step by step,

TRUTH. 3

With duly firm-prescribed approximations,
On its own path in definite direction.

Truth is beheld by mind, not by the senses,
T'is not a thing which merchants keep in store,
Tis no commodity which we possess.
Truth is a superhuman power, and
From generation unto generation
Truth marches on, unfolding and revealing
The wondrous mysteries of cosmic life.

Truth is too great that ever it be final.
But Truth remains the Truth e'en though its work
Can never be completed, never finished.
Truth is not untrue, it is not a sham,
Because its resources are ne'er exhausted;
Because its duties, constantly renewed,
From day to day enlarge our field; because
One goal attained entails still further tasks,
And so before our raptured vision stretches
The promised land of vistas infinite.

Truth is life's factor and determinant,
And we are workers in Truth's noble cause.
We yearn for Truth, we need its light ; and Truth
Enters our Soul; it takes abode in us,
And consecrates our lives to higher service,
Not we own Truth, t'is Truth that owneth us.

Search for the Truth ! Truth's problems are not vain.
Love thou the Truth! trust Truth, and live the Truth!
Walk on Truth's path and Truth will guide thee right.

PAUL CARUS.

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD.

in the Takmd is a snbject which
nstian stndenL For what can be
rofoBBder •ierest than to learn what the Jews have
saxo concernHicr lesns and. *j-fcnMimMfty- w c oatoraAj^
look to the Jewish hetonan Josephns, who described and
wwjBcssed the oowniaM OK the Jewish cooBnoowcaltn. oQt
we are dfcappcsnt ed. True that in his "Antiqinties**
(XVJll, i 3) JcaefhBB has lefacntc to Christ, bat schol-
ar§ are oov gMM^jy ^ii mi* tinfr ffci^ pa«ag^ is a later

then aside Josenhns,, w

as the Tahmd. We

of tins Tafannnoas work, of winch
into any modem language does not
refer Ike reader to oar article Tal-

~~. '. ~. . ii*. ~'. ~ r. in ^r ~ " " — ~
ForthcTahnwl
zs we now have it urtjinv not those Christian or rather
in* in passages^ which K or 11 Jnaar hi2.cL ^fodcrn

of the intolerance of die Chnrchr which
of Jostimsu persecnted and bnrned the
that the Tahnodonhr reaped what

JESCS IK THETAJJOBL

it has sowed, and dot the Church of

".-: ::r. ~rt . i.rr/ji :::- : r:~ ::

Talmud which tanghr that in case of a fire
on die Suhhiih, the Gospels and other works of the •COBM
(i. e_, Christians) shonid *** be fy<i'ii**f ^T tbt
my son," said the Rabbi Tarphon, "snonld they (L

_"-' DHL '11

*j*< -«< -- - - — if ^^ — -J ^^^^L^^^L ^.^^^ta— — ^h^^^^^>^k-^^M^^k^4 "" " •

wnn tJae names 01 ixxi ^ nyji toev cootamecL \% <

than in their (L e^, the Chnstia^) hones. For tiae lattcr
are m-ftfnl traitors, wtrile the healhm «•

of "*^ npnt 'wavi ^mi oooccrmoBT DKBI the

faOj and ffrr posts, hast tikoo set vp thy
(Is.lwn.8).* This fact ^orid not be for-
The anti CTirntun character of Jcvndi
early attracted die j I !«•<•• of GhrBtians. and

Limns (820850) ni

_ __ j • » - •• — -- — ^ •" . _-"_"-.-"_- — ^ •»••

ano jjuaootnns jManws. axcnnBnon OK mac

his Comtrm fmdmeor, mittaM jhunt 8^ A. D^ betraj

•. .*r. f" :-" .::t.ri.j.rf Fbe ~";:

when A. D.

1240 a conference was held at Paris betwen BGoobs

to Jesus in the Talmud rabbi JedneL the

_.-_r Mg T - •_« v v ' . .-_ .

. _ . r r ••".-.. . 1 . • . I f 1 . ... ^

that the Jesus spoken of m the Ta

"- discover*

V^P^MV^^ l^^-^^^ •^^M^PwH^^^i^M "^" -

some Buer wrners. nnc •

_ f _^ ^ ^ _ _ ^ ^ _ T^L—

ot tins argnnent, tor says ur.
'": - ------- - - - - 'r: - --

ascertain that there were two by the name

f r . M .* — — ? — _ — - < ^ , ^^ _ * ^1 <_ _ XK 4 _ -«*^ -

Tonnnate, ongnai as tne idea nor DC. j\s tne

O THE MONIST.

this essay was a pupil of the rabbinical seminary at Breslau,
he certainly expressed the opinion of his teachers. The re-
sult of the conference was that the Talmud in wagon-loads
was burned at Paris in 1242.

In our days, such accusations against the Talmud were
impossible, because all these offensive passages have been
removed — not so much by the hands of the Christian cen-
sor, as by the Jews themselves — a fact only very often
overlooked by controversialists. — In the Jewish year 5391
(i.e., A. D. 1631) a Jewish synod held at Petrikau, in
Poland, issued a circular letter6 to the effect that all such
passages in the Talmud which refer to Jesus etc., should
be omitted in the future. This letter explains the absence
of those offensive passages from the editions of the Talmud
published since the publication of the Amsterdam edition
in 1644. But happily or unhappily the Jews themselves
have taken care that "the expurgated passages in the Tal-
mud" did not become lost to their coreligionists by pub-
lishing them anonymously in pamphlets, of which Profes-
sor Strack of Berlin mentions no less than four such edi-
tions.7 These collections, published for the most part in
Germany, are of a recent date, and are probably intended
for more than a mere literary interest.

In order to give back to the Jews what the censor has
taken from them and to show them that Christianity has
nothing to fear from these expurgated passages, Professor
Dalman of Leipsic, one of the few Christian scholars who
are entitled to be heard even in Talmudicis, has published
in a convenient form all these passages contained in the
oldest editions of the Talmud and Midrash. To this collec-
tion of the censured passages H. Laible appended an in-
troductory essay, and the whole was published under the

•The reader can find this circular letter in my article "Talmud" in Mc-
Clintock & Strong's Theol. Enc., vol. x, p. 172.

7 The present writer has also one of these collections, published at Cracow,
1893-

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 7

title Jesus Christus im Talmud, Berlin, 1891, by the mis-
sionary "Institutum Judaicum."

Before we enter into the debating club of the rabbis, we
will make a few preliminary remarks which can prepare
us for the Talmudic statements.

During the life-time of Jesus his miracles were not
denied but were traced back to Beelzebub, the prince of
the devils (Mark iii. 22). The scribes would not recognize
one who sought not their company, but that of publicans
and sinners with whom he ate; who broke the Sabbath
and abolished the difference between clean and unclean.
That the grave of Christ had been empty, the Jews did not
deny, but they thought that the disciples had stolen the
body (Matt, xxviii. 15). They freely made use of the in-
vective Beelzebub ("master of the house") for the "mas-
ter" of the Christians as well as for his servants (Matt.
x. 25). After his death, the crucified Messiah, as Paul
tells us, became unto them a stumbling block ( I Cor. i. 23).
The destruction of Jerusalem had made no impression upon
"these villains" and upon "that ungodly generation," as
Josephus calls his countrymen (War, v, 13, 6). But if
the sword of Judaism was perforce sheathed, its tongues
and pens were active. The apologetic writings of the
earliest centuries, show that the Jews were busy through-
out this whole era in circulating calumnies against the
Christians. Justin Martyr (died 163 A. D.) complains of
the Jewish blasphemies against Christ and the Christians.
"The high priests of your nation and your teachers," he
says, "have caused that the name of Jesus should be pro-
faned and reviled through the whole world" (Dialogue
with Trypho, 117). "Nay, ye have added thereto, that
Christ taught those impious, unlawful, horrible actions,
which ye disseminate as charges above all against those
who acknowledge Christ as Teacher and as the Son of
God" (ibid. 108). "Your teachers exhort you to permit

8 THE MONIST.

yourselves no conversation whatever with us" (ibid. 112).
"The Jews regard us as foes and opponents, and kill, and
torture us if they have the power. In the lately-ended
Jewish war, Bar Kokh'ba, the instigator of the Jewish
revolt, caused Christians alone to be dragged to terrible
tortures, whenever they would not deny and revile Jesus
Christ" (Apology, I, 31). "The Jews hate us, because we
say that Christ is already come, and because we point out
that He, as had been prophesied, was crucified by them"
(Dial. 35). "Ye have killed the Just and His prophets
before Him. And now ye despise those who hope in Him
and in God, the King over all and Creator of all things,
who has sent Jesus ; ye despise and dishonor them, as much
as in j'ou lies, in that in your synagogues ye curse those
who believe in Christ. Ye only lack the power, on account
of those who hold the reins of government, to treat us with
violence. But as often as ye have had this power, ye have
also done this" (ibid. 16). "In your synagogues ye curse
all who have become Christians, and the same is done by
the other nations, who give a practical turn to the curse,
in that when any one acknowledges himself a Christian,
they put him to death" (ibid. 96).

From the "True Word" of Celsus, which has been an-
swered by Origen, we already learn some of the mean
things which the Jews circulated about Jesus. The Jew
whom Celsus introduces charges Jesus with having falsely
proclaimed himself to be born of a virgin; afterwards he
says that Jesus was born in a poor Jewish village, and that
his mother was a poor woman of the country, who sup-
ported herself with spinning and needlework ; that she was
cast off by her betrothed, a carpenter ; and that after she
was rejected by her husband, she wandered about in dis-
grace and misery till she secretly gave birth to Jesus.
Jesus himself was obliged from poverty and necessity to
go down as servant into Egypt, where he learnt some of the

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 9

secret sciences which are in high honor among the Egyp-
tians ; and he placed such confidence in these sciences that
on his return to his native land he gave himself out to be
a god (I, 28). The Jew of Celsus also declares that the
carpenter who was betrothed to Mary, put the mother of
Jesus from him, because she had broken faith with him,
in favor of a soldier named Panthera (I, 32).

Tertullian writing somewhere about 197-198 A. D. in
his De Spectaculis, chap. 30, in which he depicts the glo-
rious spectacle of the second coming says that he will turn
to the Jews who raged against the Lord and say unto them :
"This is your carpenter's son, your harlot's son; your
sabbath-breaker, your Samaritan, your demon-possessed!
This is He whom ye bought from Judas ; this is He who was
struck with reeds and fists, dishonored with spittle, and
given a draught of gall and vinegar! This is He whom
His disciples have stolen secretly, that it may be said He
has risen, or the gardener abstracted that his lettuces
might not be damaged by the crowds of visitors!"

Such is already the attitude of Judaism towards Jesus
at a time when the Talmud was in a state of formation.
But if we wish to become acquainted with the Rabbinical
Jesus-tradition we must examine the constituent parts of the
Talmud, namely the Mishna, Tosephta (i. e., addition or
supplement to the Mishna), the Gemara or commentary
on the Mishna, and the Midrashim or homiletic literature,
especially the Midrash Kohelet or Midrash on Ecclesiastes.
The Talmudic Jesus traditions continued themselves even
after the time of the completion of the Talmud. They were
further developed and enlarged, and reached their full
expression in the Middle Ages. In that period the hatred
of Jesus which was never quite dormant, begat a literature,
in comparison with which the Talmud must be termed
almost innocent. The Toldoth Jeshu literature originated,
which is still continued. In the Toldoth Jeshu a detailed

IO THE MONIST.

picture of the life of Jesus was put together, of which the
authors of the Talmud had no anticipation. The three
consonants ; s (shin) v, with which the name Jeshu was
written, are here explained as being the first letters of the
three words: j — jimmach, sh — shfmo, v = v'zichro, i. e.,
"may be blotted out his name and his memory"! The
Toldoth Jeshu is nothing but the offspring of low fanati-
cism, malicious delight in defamation, and vulgar imagi-
nation which respectable Jews have always despised.

After these preliminaries we now take up the passages
of the Talmud as given by Dalman, and which are claimed
to refer to Jesus. For the sake of convenience we arrange
them under different heads.

BIRTH AND PARENTAGE OF JESUS.

In the Talmud Shabbath 104^ we read : "He who cuts
upon his flesh." It is a tradition that Rabbi Eliezer said to
the wise, Has not Ben Stada brought magic spells from
Egypt in a cut which was upon his body ? They answered
him, He was a fool, and we do not take proofs from fools.
[Ben Stada is Ben Pandira. Rab Hisda said, The hus-
band was Stada, the paramour was Pandira. The husband
was Paphos ben Jehudah, the mother was Stada. The
mother was Miriam the dresser of women's hair, as we
say in Pumbeditha, Such a one has been false to her hus-
band.]1

The above passage occurs in a discussion upon the
words in the Mishnah which forbid all kinds of writing to
be done on the Sabbath. Several kinds are specified, and
among them the making of marks upon the flesh. The
words at the beginning of the translation, "he who cuts
upon his flesh," are the text, so to speak, of the Mishnah
which is discussed in what follows. To illustrate the prac-

1 The passage in [] which also occurs in Sanhedrin 670, is not found in
modern editions. It is supplied from Rabbinowicz Diqduqe Sopherim, on the
authority of the Munich and Oxford manuscripts, and the older editions.

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 1 1

tice of making marks on the skin, the compilers of the
Gemara introduce a tradition, according to which Rabbi
Eliezer asked the question, "Did not Ben Stada bring
magical spells from Egypt in a cut which was upon his
body?" His argument was that as Ben Stada had done
this, the practice might be allowable. The answer was
that Ben Stada was a fool, and his case proved nothing.
Upon the mention however of Ben Stada, a note is added
to explain who that person was, and it is for the sake of
this note that the passage is quoted.

The two names Ben Stada and Ben Pandera evidently
refer to the same person, and that that person is Jesus is
shown clearly by the fact that we sometimes meet with the
full name "Jeshu son of Pandera," also Jeshu son of Stada."
It seems that the question was argued in the schools which
of the two familiar designations (son of Stada, son of
Pandera) was the correct one. One of the two appellations
appeared to be necessarily false. Which was correct?

The subject treated was that the son of Stada had
brought charms with him out of Egypt in an incision in
his flesh. Thereupon some one objects: the designation
Ben Stada is false; he was the son of Pandera. No, says
Rab Hisda (a Babylonian teacher, A. D. 217-309), Stada
was the name of the husband (of his mother), Pandira
the name of her paramour. To call him either the one or
the other is therefore correct. To this however is objected
that this cannot be true, because the husband is known to
have been called Paphos ben Jehudah. Stada must have
been not the father but the mother. But how can that be,
because the mother was called Miriam the dresser of wo-
men's hair? As rejoinder to this follows the conclusion:
Of that we are aware, but she is also called Stada, by her
nickname. Insomuch as she had a paramour, she was
given the "sobriquet" Stada, which consists of the words
stath da, i. e., she has gone aside, from her husband. Thus

12 THE MONIST.

at least the word is explained in the Babylonian Academy
at Pumbeditha.

Various attempts have been made to explain the two
names Ben Stada and Ben Pandira (also written Pandera,
or Pantira). But none of the suggested explanations
solves the problem. We leave the two names as relics of
ancient Jewish mockery against Jesus, the clue to whose
meaning is now lost.

Mention has also been made of Miriam (of which Mary
is the equivalent). She is called m'gaddla nashaia, i. e.,
a women's hairdresser. How came the Talmud to bestow
this epithet upon the mother of Jesus, for whom elsewhere
it has the characteristic designation of adulteress? That
Jesus's mother was named Mary, was known to the Jews ;
that she had born Jesus out of wedlock, was maintained
by them. Then they heard a noted Christian woman of
Jesus's time often spoken of, who was named Mary of
Magdala. What was more natural for those who had al-
ready long ceased to ascertain more particularly at the
mouth of Christians the history of Jesus, than by this Mary
(of) Magdala simply to understand Jesus's mother, espe-
cially since their knowledge was confined to one Mary?
She was reported to be a great sinner. This harmonized
in a twofold way with their assumption, for, that Jesus's
mother was a sinner, was maintained by them with the
utmost certainty, and now they obtained, as they supposed,
actual confirmation of this from the Christians. Miriam
(of) Magdala was accordingly the mother of Jesus, and
by a name-play the Magdala was turned into m'gaddla
nashaia, i. e., women's hairdresser.

In the Talmudic passage quoted above we are told that
Stada's (i. e., Mary's) lawful husband was Paphos ben
Jehudah. Now of this Paphos, who lived a century after
Jesus, the Talmud Gittin 90° narrates the following:

'There is a tradition, Rabbi Meir used to say: 'Just as

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 13

there are various kinds of taste as regards eating, so there
are also various dispositions as regards women. There
is a man into whose cup a fly falls and he casts it out, but
all the same he does not drink it [the cup]. Such was the
manner of Paphos ben Jehudah, who used to lock the door
upon his wife, and go out/ '

All we learn from this passage directly with regard
to Paphos ben Jehudah, a contemporary of Rabbi Akiba,
is that he locked up his wife ; we are, however, led to con-
clude, indirectly, that she ultimately proved unfaithful to
her tyrannical spouse. What, then, was more simple than
for a story-teller to connect this with the details of un-
faithfulness found in his Jeshu repertoire? The erring
wife was just like Miriam; before long she actually became
Miriam, and finally Paphos ben Jehudah was confidently
given as Miriam's husband ! So they had it in later times,
and the great Talmudic commentator Rashi (died A. D.
1105) comments thus upon our passage: "Paphos ben
Jehudah was the husband of Mary, the women's hair-
dresser. Whenever he went out of his house into the
street, he locked the door upon her, that no one might be
able to speak with her. And that is a course which became
him not; for on this account there arose enmity between
them, and she in wantonness broke her faith with her hus-
band."

A MARY-LEGEND.

In Talmud Hagigah 4b we read the following : "When
Rab Joseph came to this verse (Prov. xiii. 23), 'But there
is that is destroyed without judgment,' he wept. He said :
'Is there really some one who is going [away], when it is
not his time?' None but this [told] of Rab Bibi bar Abbai.
The Angel of Death was with him. The Angel said to
his messenger, 'Go, bring me Miriam the dresser of wo-
men's hair.' He brought him Miriam the teacher of chil-

14 THE MONIST.

dren. He [the Angel] said, 'I told thee Miriam the dresser
of women's hair.' He said, 'If so, I will take this one back.'
He said, 'Since thou has brought this one, let her be among
the number [of the dead].' '

In this narrative we have a monstrous anachronism.
Rab Joseph, who is mentioned here, was born at Shiti, in
Babylonia, A. D. 259 and died in 325. Rab Bibi flour-
ished in the fourth century. The latter can neither have
seen Mary nor have been her contemporary. The Talmudic
commentary Tosaphoth remarks: "The Angel of Death
was with him : he related what had already happened, for
this about Miriam the dresser of women's hair took place
in [the time of] the second temple, for she was the mother
of that so and so [i. e., Jesus], as it is said in Shabbath
iO4&." But the wording of the Talmud says quite dis-
tinctly that Mary lived in the very time of Rab Bibi, on
which account the Angel of Death spoke with him not of
one who had existed earlier, but of one actually living.
Further this angel, we may note, at that very time in the
presence of Rab Bibi commissions his messenger, to bring
her, i. e., deliver her to death. The Tosaphoth notes on
Shabbath 104^ seek needlessly to remove the anachronism
by the assumption that there were two women's hairdres-
sers, named Mary. But this attempt is in vain, for nothing
is known of that second Mary. Besides we must not forget
that the Talmud, in relation to Jesus, has no conception
of chronology, and indeed, the later the origin of notices
about Jesus, the more reckless are they in their chrono-
logical lapses. The post-Talmudic Second Targum on the
Book of Esther actually reckons Jesus among the ancestors
of Haman, an anachronism, which Levy in his Targumic
dictionary (I, 330) seeks in vain to justify. In the face of
such an unfathomable error what signifies the erroneous
representation that Rab Bibi lived in the time of Mary?

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 15

JESUS ALLEGED TO BE BORN OUT OF WEDLOCK.

i. The Pretended Record.

It is said in Mishnah Jebamoth iv, I32 (Gemara 49*) :
"Simeon ben Azai said, 'I have found in Jerusalem a book
of genealogies, and therein is written: That so and so3 is
a mamzer* of a married woman, to confirm the words of
Rabbi Jehoshua/ "

This passage is from the Mishnah, and therefore be-
longs to the older stratum of the Talmud. Ben Azai flour-
ished at the end of the first and the beginning of the second
century, and was a friend and contemporary of Rabbi
Akiba who was a particularly zealous opponent of the
Christians. When Ben Azai reported that he had found
a book of pedigrees, in which it was stated that so and so
(peloni) was of spurious birth, it is certainly probable
that reference is to Jesus. Unless some well-known man
were intended, there would no point in referring to him;
and unless there had been some strong reason for avoiding
his name, the name would have been given in order to
strengthen the argument founded upon the case. For it
is said that Ben Azai made his statement in order "to con-
firm the words of Rabbi Joshua." The matter in question
concerned the definition of the notion of mamzer, a predi-
cate which the Jews only too willingly ascribed to Jesus.
That the passage refers to Jesus is admitted by the Jewish
scholar J. Derenbourg (in Revue des Etudes Juives, III,
293, n. 3).

"It is interesting that the English translators of the Eighteen Treatises
of the Mishna, rabbis De Sola and Raphall (London, 1845) have not trans-
lated this part of the fourth chapter. Why?

*The original reads peloni, and is one of the twenty-eight periphrastic
titles of Jesus from Jewish writings, adduced by Eisenmenger in the second
chapter of the first part of his Entdecktes fudenthum.

4 1. e., a bastard, a predicate attributed by the Jews to Jesus.

10 THE MONIST.

THE ALLEGED CONFESSION BY THE MOTHER OF JESUS.

In the treatise Kallah iSb we read the folowing: "A
shameless person is according to Rabbi Eliezer a bastard,
according to Rabbi Joshua a son of woman in her separa-
tion, according to Rabbi Akiba a bastard and son of a
woman in her separation. Once there sat elders at the
gate when two boys passed by; one had his head covered,
the other bare. Of him who had his head uncovered Rabbi
Eliezer said, 'a bastard!' Rabbi Joshua said, 'A son of a
woman in her separation !' Rabbi Akiba said, 'A bastard
and son of a woman in her separation!' They said to
Rabbi Akiba, 'How has thine heart impelled thee to the
audacity of contradicting the words of thy colleagues?'
He said to them, 'I am about to prove it.' Thereupon he
went to the boy's mother, and found her sitting in the
market and selling pulse. He said to her, 'My daughter,
if thou tellest me the thing which I ask thee, I will bring
thee to eternal life.' She said to him, 'Swear it to me!'
Thereupon Rabbi Akiba took the oath with his lips, while
he canceled it in his heart. Then said he to her, 'Of what
sort is this thy son?' She said to him, 'When I betook
myself to the bridal chamber, I was in my separation, and
my husband stayed away from me. But my paranymph
[i. e., the bridegroom's best man] came to me, and by him
I have this son.' So the boy was discovered to be both a
bastard and the son of a woman in her separation. There-
upon said they, 'Great is Rabbi Akiba, in that he has put
to shame his teachers.' In the same hour they said, 'Blessed
be the Lord God of Israel, who has revealed this secret to
Rabbi Akiba ben Joseph.' '

This famous discussion on bastardy, even when taken
by itself is remarkable from the ethical point of view. Con-
sidering the strange ascription of an act of heartless per-
jury to Akiba as the means whereby he extorted the con-

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 17

fession from the boy's mother, and the far more curious
addition at the end of the passage which blesses the God
of Israel for revealing ''this secret" after the use of such
questionable means, we ask : Can modern Jews still uphold
the reputation of the Talmud or of its great authority,
Akiba?

Considering the passage by itself, we see that neither
the name of the son nor that of the mother is here men-
tioned. But the fact that use has been made of the story
in the Toldoth Jeshu (ed. Hulreich, p. 22; ed. Wagenseil,
p. 12; MS. Strassburg, ed. Krauss,5 p. 39; MS. Vindobona,
ibid., p. 69) shows that it was regarded as having reference
to Jesus. That Akiba lived about a century after Jesus,
is of no account, since the Talmud abounds in anachron-
isms.

JESUS AND HIS TEACHER.

Whereas the New Testament knows nothing of Jesus
having enjoyed the tuition of a rabbi, the Talmud San-
hedrin, lojb (and almost exactly in the same words Sota,
470) narrates the following: "Our Rabbis teach, Ever let
the left hand repel and the right hand invite, not like Elisha
who repulsed Gehazi with both hands, and not like Rabbi
Joshua ben Perachjah who repulsed Jeshu (the Nazarene)
with both hands. What of Rabbi Joshua ben Perachjah?
When Jannai the king killed our Rabbis, Joshua ben Pe-
rachjah [and Jeshu] fled to Alexandria in Egypt. When
there was peace, Simon ben Shetach wrote to him : 'From
me [Jerusalem] the city of holiness, to thee Alexandria
of Egypt [my sister]. My husband stays in thy midst
and I sit forsaken.' He came and found himself at a cer-
tain inn; they showed him great honor. He said, 'How
beautiful is this Ascania!'6 [Jesus] said to him, 'Rabbi,

8 Das Leben Jesu nach jiidischen Quellen, Berlin, 1902.

'The word means both inn and innkeeper. Joshua uses it in the first
sense, the answering remark implies the second meaning "hostess."

l8 THE MONIST.

she has narrow eyes/ He said, 'Wretch, dost thou employ
thyself thus ?' He sent out 400 trumpets and excommuni-
cated him. He [Jesus] came before him many times and
said to him, 'Receive me.' But he would not notice him.
One day he [i. e., Joshua] was reciting the Shema (i. e.,
the words: 'Hear, O Israel,' Deut. vi. 4 et seq.), he [i. e.,
Jesus] came before him. He was minded to receive him,
and made a sign to him. He [i. e., Jesus] thought that
he repelled him. He went and hung up a tile and wor-
shiped it. Joshua said to him, 'Return.' He replied,
'Thus I have received from thee, that every one who sins
and causes the multitude to sin, they give him not the
chance to repent.' And the teacher [i. e., he who has
handed down this tradition] has said, 'Jesus the Nazarene
practiced magic and led astray and deceived Israel."7

In the Jerusalem Talmud Hagigah, Jjd, the same story
is related only that in place of Joshua ben Perachjah his
contemporary Judah ben Tabbai is placed and that the
name of Jesus is not mentioned, for which we read "one of
his (Tabbai's) disciples." But whether the reading is
Joshua ben Perachjah or Judah ben Tabbai we have here
again one of those striking anachronisms for which the
Talmud is famous. The event under King Jannai (i. e.,
Alexander Jannaeus) is historical. After the capture of
the stronghold Bethome King Jannai (104-78 B. C.) had
800 Pharisees crucified. This crucifixion was the occasion
of the flight into Syria and Egypt on the part of the Phari-
sees generally in the country, and among them Joshua ben
Perachjah and Judah ben Tabbai. The question may be
asked, how did the name of Jesus8 come to be introduced
into a story referring to a time so long before his own?

T This formal charge is also found in Sanhedrin 430, where the words of
"the teacher" are found.

*In the edition of Basel, 1578-81, and in all later ones, the censor of the
press has expunged the name of Jesus, which is found in all the older editions
of the Talmud.

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 19

Bearing in mind that the rabbis had extremely vague ideas
of the chronology of past times, we may perhaps find the
origin of the story in its Babylonian form in a desire to
explain the connection of Jesus with Egypt. The con-
necting link may, perhaps, be found in the fact of a flight
into Egypt to escape the anger of a king. This was known
in regard to Joshua ben Perachjah, and the Gospel (Matt,
ii. 13 et seq.) records a similar event in regard to Jesus.
There may be some other details in the life of Jesus which
the rabbis had in view when they remodeled the story to
suit their purpose. Hence, in rejecting the date, it is not
absolutely necessary to reject the whole of the Babylonian
version as entirely devoid of every element of genuineness.
Again, as to the lateness of the Babylonian version, it is to
be observed that the Gemara quotes from an earlier source
or tradition of the story, as can be seen from the closing
words of the Talmud passage (Sanhedrin lojb) given
above.

JESUS A MAGICIAN.

Whereas the Toldoth Jeshu attributes the miraculous
power of Jesus to the Shem (i. e., the Tetragrammaton or
Ineffable Name) which he stole from the Temple at Jeru-
salem by a strange device, the Talmud knows nothing of
this robbing of the Shem from the Temple, but records that
Jesus brought magic out of Egypt.9 The passages refer-
ring to it are:

i. Tosephta10 Shabbath XII: "He who upon the Sab-
bath cuts letters upon his body is, according to the view of
Rabbi Eliezer guilty, according to the view of the sages
he is not guilty. Rabbi Eliezer said to the sages: 'Ben
Stada surely learned sorcery by such writing.' They re-

* Egypt was regarded as the special home of magic, an opinion expressed
in the Talmud Kiddushin 496 : "Ten measures of sorcery descended into the
world, Egypt received nine, the rest of the world one."

"That is "supplement to the Mishna"; best edition by Zuckermandel,
(Pasewalk, 1880), p. 126.

2O THE MONIST.

plied to him : 'Should we in any wise on account of a fool
destroy all reasonable men ?' '

2. Jerusalem Shabbath 136/1 "He who scratches on the
skin in the fashion of writing is guilty, but he who makes
marks on the skin in the fashion of writing is exempt from
punishment. Rabbi Eliezer said to them: 'But has not
Ben Stada brought magic spells out of Egypt in this way ?'
They answered him: 'On account of one fool we do not
ruin a multitude of reasonable men/ '

3. Shabbath 104^ : "It is a tradition that Rabbi Eliezer
said to the sages: 'Did not Ben Stada bring spells from
Egypt in a cut which was upon his flesh?' They replied,
'He was a fool, and they do not bring a proof from a fool/ '

It has already been shown above that Ben Stada denotes
Jesus. In the passages before us he is charged with bring-
ing magical charms from Egypt concealed in an incision
in his flesh. The charge that he was a magician is no doubt
based on the belief that he did many miracles, a belief
which found ample support in the Gospel records. To say
that Jesus learned magic in Egypt, the special home of
magic according to the Talmud Kiddushin 49^ already
referred to, is to say that he was a great magician, more
powerful than others. That he had something to do with
Egypt we have also seen above in the passage which makes
him a disciple of Joshua ben Perachjah. As to the man-
ner in which he is alleged to have brought with him Egyp-
tian magic, a curious explanation is given by Rashi, the
Talmud commentator on Shabbath 104^ to the effect that
"the Egyptian magicians searched every one who quitted
the land of Egypt, whether he was taking any books of
magic with him, in order that the magical art (namely,
the Egyptian) might not come into other countries/' Now
since Jesus could not take them away in writing, he con-
cealed them in the manner described, or perhaps tatooed
magical signs on his flesh.

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 21

JESUS AN IDOLATER.

Jesus is not only a fool but also an idolater. In the
Talmud Sanhedrin 1030 we read on the passage Ps. xci. 10,
"There shall no evil befall thee," that it means that evil
dreams and bad fantasies shall not vex thee; on "Neither
shall any plague come nigh thy tent," that it means that
thou shalt not have a son or disciple who burns his food
publicly like Jeshu (i. e., Jesus) the Nazarene.11

The last clause is also found in Talmud Berachoth i?b.
The authority who quotes this passage is Rabbi Hisda, a
Babylonian who lived A. D. 217-309. He quotes it in the
name of Rabbi Jeremiah bar Abba, who was his contempo-
rary, and apparently of about the same age. As to the
term "to burn his food publicly," lexicographers are of
different opinions. Dalman says that this means "to re-
nounce publicly what one has learned." Laible thinks that
the term is "a contemptuous expression for the public offer-
ing of sacrifice to idols. That the Christians in their as-
semblies offered sacrifice to idols was as firmly the opinion
of the Jews of olden time as it is that of many of the present
day. Naturally, therefore, it was concluded that Jesus
must have commenced it." May be it refers to the fact
that Jesus went and taught the people publicly — the poor,
the outcast, the oppressed, the sinners, the publicans, in a
word the unpurified people, with whom a disciple of a rabbi
ought not to associate. But whatever the meaning, certain
it is that in the eyes of the rabbis Jesus was a heterodox,
who according to Talmud Sanhedrin 430 and 1076 "cor-
rupted and seduced Israel."

THE CLAIM OF JESUS DENIED.

In the Jerusalem Talmud Taanith 65^ we read with
reference to Num. xxiii. 19: "Rabbi Abahu said, If a

n So in all the older editions and the manuscripts.

22 THE MONIST.

man shall say to thee, 'I am God/ he lies ; if he says, 'I am
the son of man/ he shall rue it; 'I will go up to heaven'
(to this applies Num. xxiii. 19) he saith, but shall not
perform it."

That the passage refers to Jesus there can be no possi-
bility of doubt. This Rabbi Abahu, who lived in Csesarea
at the end of the third and the beginning of the fourth
century, seems to have largely engaged in controversy with
Jewish Christians. According to Abahu any one who says
that he is God and at the same time designates himself
as Son of Man — and this no man save Jesus has ever done
— is a liar.

The import of the testimony of Jesus to Himself is
mentioned also in the Midrash Pesikta Rabbathi (ed. Fried-
mann, 1880), fol. loob: "Rabbi Hia bar Abba [about 216
A. D.] said: 'If the son of the harlot shall say to thee,
There be two Gods, answer him, I am He of the sea, I am
He of Sinai.' Rabbi Hia bar Abba said, 'If the son of the
harlot shall say to thee, There be two Gods, answer him,
It is here (Deut. v. 4) written not Gods but the Lord hath
spoken with you face to face.' '

That God has a son, and that for this reason there are
two Gods, passes here for the teaching of the harlot's son,
wherein the reference is clear, namely to Jesus.

An amplification of Abahu's work, given above, is
found in the Midrash Jalqut Shimoni (also Midrash Je-
lammedenu) on Num. xxiii. 7, where we read that Rabbi
Eleazar ha-Qappar said that "God gave strength to his
(Balaam's) voice, so that it went from one end of the
world to the other, because he looked forth and beheld the
peoples that bow down to the sun and moon and stars,
and to wood and stone, and he looked forth and beheld
that there was a man, son of a woman, who should rise up
and seek to make himself God, and to cause the whole
world to go astray. Therefore God gave power to his

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 23

voice that all the peoples of the world might hear, and
thus he spake/Give heed that ye go not astray after that
man, for it is written (Num. xxiii. 19), 'God is not a man
that he should lie/ and if he says that he is God he is a
liar, and he will deceive and say that he departeth and com-
eth again in the end, he saith and he shall not perform.
See what is written (Num. xxiv. 23) : 'And he took up his
parable and said, Alas, who shall live when he makes (him-
self) God!' Balaam intended to say, Alas, who shall live
of that nation which heareth that man who hath made
himself God." —

Now Eleazar ha-Qappar, who is reported to have said
all this, was earlier than Abahu, for he died about 260
A. D. Whether all is to be taken as Qappar's work, we
know not. At all events we have here a naive prophecy
after the event, which makes Balaam quote his own words
(Num. xxiii. 19) as scripture. One thing however is cer-
tain : Jesus is here referred to more fully than in the shorter
saying of Abahu.

BALAAM-JESUS.

In Mishna Sanhedrin x, 2, we read : "Three kings and
four private men have no part in the world to come. The
three kings are Jeroboam, Ahab and Manasseh .... the
four private men are Balaam, Doeg, Ahitophel and Ge-
hazi."

This passage belongs to the famous chapter of the
Mishna, entitled Chelek, because it commences by saying
that "all Israel have part (chelek) in the world to come,"
and then enumerates the exceptions. The three kings, Jero-
boam, Ahab and Manasseh are all mentioned in the Old
Testament as having introduced idolatry, perverted the
true religion. The immediate connection of the four pri-
vate persons arouses the conjecture that they were con-
demned for the same offense. This conclusion is strength-

24 THE MONIST.

ened by the fact that the preceding paragraph of the
Mishna (x, i)in this chapter excepts from the privilege
of the world to come according to Rabbi Akiba also such a
person "who reads in external books and who whispers
over a wound, and says, None of the diseases which I
sent in Egypt will I lay upon thee, I the Lord am thy
healer." Now the external books, according to the Geniara
upon this passage (fol. loob) are the Siphre Minim, i. e.,
the books of the Jewish Christians or Christians generally,
which books by way of caricature Rabbi Me'ir (130-160
A. D.) calls awen gillayon (literally, margin of evil) and
Rabbi Jochanan (Meir's contemporary) calls awon gil-
layon (i. e., blank paper of sin) — thus in Talmud Shab-
bath n6a (MS. Munich).

The words "who whispers over a wound," refer to the
miraculous cures of the Christians.

The combination of Balaam with Doeg, Ahitophel
and Gehazi is certainly extraordinary. Balaam was not
an Israelite, and therefore could not logically be included
in a list of exceptions to a rule which only affected Israelites.
It is evident that Balaam here does not mean the ancient
prophet of Num. xxii et seq., but some one else for whom
that ancient prophet could serve as a type. From the
Jewish point of view there was considerable likeness be-
tween Balaam and Jesus. Both had led the people astray ;
and if the former had tempted them to gross immorality,
the latter, according to the Rabbis, had tempted them to
gross apostasy. This was the great charge against Jesus,
that "he practised magic and deceived and led astray Is-
rael." If it be true that Balaam stands for Jesus, then it
is reasonable to suppose that Doeg, Ahitophel and Gehazi
stand for the names of some other persons who had fallen
under severe Rabbinical displeasure. Who they were pre-
cisely we have now no means of discovering, and the sup-
position that they refer to Peter, James and John, or Peter,

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 25

Judas Iscariot12 and Paul may be possible. However this
may be, the rabbis were convinced that the disciples of
Balaam en bloc would inherit Gehenna, as we read in
Aboth v, 19: "The disciples of our father Abraham enjoy
this world and inherit the world to come, as it is written
(Prov. viii. 21) 'That I may cause those that love me to
inherit substance, and that I may fill their treasuries.' The
disciples of Balaam the impious inherit Gehenna and go
down into the pit of destruction, as it is written (Ps. Iv.
24) : 'But thou, O God, shalt bring them down into the pit
of destruction; bloodthirsty and deceitful men shall not
live out half their days:' '

And if there should by any chance be still the slightest
hesitation in the mind of the reader that Balaam in these
passages is identical with Jesus, the following passage
should forever set his mind at rest.

THE AGE OF BALAAM (JESUS).

In the Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 1066 we read
thus: "A certain heretic (min) said to Rabbi Hanina,
'Have you ever heard how old Balaam was ?' He replied,
There is nothing written about it. But since it is said,
Bloodthirsty and deceitful men shall not live out half their
days (Ps. Iv. 23), he was either thirty-three or thirty-four
years old.' He (the heretic) said, 'Thou hast spoken well.
I have seen the chronicle of Balaam in which it is said,
Balaam, the lame, was thirty-three years old when the
robber Phinchas killed him.' '

Rabbi Hanina lived at Sepphoris and died 232 A. D.
There seems to be no apparent reason why a Christian
(a min) should have asked him as to the age of the ancient
Balaam. He might well have inquired about the age of
Jesus. It would seem, however, that the Christian was

u Judas Iscariot would answer to Doeg the Edomite, who betrayed David
(l Sam.xxii. 9).

26 THE MONIST.

not asking for information, but had a desire to find out
whether the rabbi knew anything about Jesus. For he
confirmed the rabbi's answer by facts known to himself.
The "Chronicle of Balaam" probably denotes a Gospel,
though none of the known Gospels states in so many words
that Jesus was as much as thirty-three years old. If,
however, it was believed that his ministry lasted three
years, and that he was "about thirty years old" when he
began to preach, the statement of the Christian is suffi-
ciently borne out, though not verbally correct. Rabbi Ha-
nina must have had fairly good grounds for his opinion
as to the age of Jesus, or he would not have quoted a text
which would only apply to the case of a man about thirty-
three or thirty-four years old.

As to Phinchas the robber or "Pinchas Listaah" who
is said to have killed Balaam, it is difficult to understand
why this worthy, who is mentioned in Num. xxv. 23 et seq.
as having led an army against the Midianites and slain
their kings together with Balaam with the sword, and this
at Moses's command, should be called "the robber." Some
Jewish writers see in Pinchas Listaah a corruption of Pon-
tius Pilate. The corruption, we admit, is a somewhat vio-
lent one; but that a Jew should call Phinchas a robber,
being, as he was, a highly honored hero of tradition, must
certainly be surprising. There is no doubt that under this
mention of Pinchas Listaah there lies concealed a reference
to Pontius Pilate.

THE TRIAL OF JESUS.

i. In the Mishna Sanhedrin X, 1 1, we read : "In regard
to all who are worthy of death according to the Torah,
they do not use concealment against them, except in the
case of the deceiver. How do they deal with him? They
put two disciples of the wise in the inner chamber, and he
sits in the outer chamber, and they light the lamp so that

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 27

they shall see him and hear his voice. And thus they did
to Ben Stada in Lud ; two disciples of the wise were chosen
for him, and they (brought him to the court of justice)
and stoned him."

2. In the Jerusalem Recension VII, 16 (fol. 250, d) we
read: "The deceiver; this denotes a private man. Not
a sage? No. From the time he deceives he is no longer
a sage. And from the time he is deceived he is no longer
a sage. How do they deal with him to work craftily
against him? They conceal (in his case) two witnesses
in the inner chamber and make him sit in the outer cham-
ber, and they light a lamp over him that they may see him
and may hear his voice. Thus did they to Ben Stada in
Lud, and they concealed in his case two disciples of the
wise, and brought him to the court of justice and stoned
him.

3. The Babylonian Gemara Sanhedrin 670 has the
following version of this incident: "For it is a tradition
that in regard to the rest of all who are worthy of death
according to the law, they do not use concealment except
in this case (i. e., of the deceiver). How do they deal
with him? They light a lamp for him in the inner cham-
ber and set witnesses in the outer chamber, so that they
may see him and hear his voice, but he does not see them.
And one says to him, 'Say to me what thou saidst to me in
private/ and he says it to him. And another says to him,
'How shall we forsake our God who is in heaven, and
practice false worship?' If he repents, it is well. If he
says, 'Such is our duty and thus it becomes us to do/ the
witnesses who hear him from outside, bring him to the
court of justice and stone him. And thus they did to Ben
Stada in Lud, and they hung him on the eve of the Pass-
over."

That the case described in these passages refers to Jesus
(called Ben Stada), who was also charged with deceiving

28 THE MONIST

the people, is clear. It is also clear that at an early period
there was a tradition that the condemnation of Jesus had
been obtained by the fraudulent means described above.
There can be no doubt that in these passages we have here
only scanty remnants of a tradition about that trial, com-
bined perhaps with hearsay information derived from
Christians. Renan in his Life of Jesus (chap. 24) believes
that the New Testament account of the Trial of Jesus must
be supplemented by these Talmudic notices. But an equally
good, if not better authority, Keim (Jesus of Nazara VI,
47n. ) says that there is no ground for correcting the Gos-
pel account by the help of the Talmud. Rather it is the
Gospel account which throws light upon the Talmudic tra-
dition. From the Gospel story are derived the two wit-
nesses (Matt. xxvi. 60. In Mark xiv. 56, 57, several wit-
nessed are mentioned). The Gospel speaks of "false" wit-
nesses, and this is perhaps the origin of the Talmudic asser-
tion that the witnesses were concealed in order to entrap
the accused. The mention of the outer and inner chamber
recalls Matt. xxvi. 69, where it is said that "Peter was
sitting without in the court" while the trial was going on
within the house of the High Priest. The lighted lamp
may have been suggested by the mention of the fire kindled
in the outer court (Luke xxii. 55). And finally the state-
ment that the accused was carried to the court of justice,
may have its origin in the fact that there was, according to
the Gospels, a second sitting of the council after the one
at which the witnesses had been present (Mark xv. i).
The Talmudic tradition differs from the Gospel in saying
that the trial took place at Lud (Lydda), and that Jesus
was hung on the eve of the Passover. Of this we shall
speak further on. But all tends to show that the Talmud
has preserved only a very vague and confused recollection
of Jesus, whose name was doubtless held in abhorrence
as that of a dangerous heretic and deceiver.

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 2Q

THE EXECUTION OF JESUS.

We read Sanhedrin 430: "And it is tradition: On the
eve of the Passover they hung Jeshu [the Nazarene] . And
the crier went forth before him forty days (saying),
'[Jeshu the Nazarene J goeth forth to be stoned, because
he hath practiced magic13 and deceived and led astray
Israel. Any one who knoweth aught in his favor, let him
come and declare concerning him. And they found naught
in his favor. And they hung him on the eve of the Pass-
over. Ulla said, 'Would it be supposed that [Jeshu the
Nazarene] a revolutionary, had aught in his favor?' He
was a deceiver, and the Merciful (i. e., God) hath said
(Deut. xiii. 8), 'Thou shalt not spare, neither shalt thou
conceal him/ But it was different with [Jeshu the Naza-
rene], for he was near to the kingdom."14

In this passage we are told that Jesus was hung. With
this must be combined the evidence of the passages given in
the former section that he was stoned. The connection
between the two statements is that Jesus was stoned, and
his dead body then hung upon a cross. This is clear from
the Mishna Sanhedrin vi, 4: "All who are stoned are hung,

" It is certainly strange that Jesus was charged with having practiced
magic, whereas magical skill was one of the qualifications necessary for a
member of the Sanhedrin. Thus we read in treatise Sanhedrin 170: Rabbi
Jochanan says, none were allowed to sit in the Sanhedrin, who were not men
of stature, men of wisdom, men of good appearance, aged, skilled in magic,
and acquainted with seventy languages, so that the Sanhedrin might not be
obliged to hear through an interpreter. — That this statement is in opposition
to Deut xviii. 10-12 makes no difference with the rabbis. The commentary
indeed tells us, that this magical skill was acquired in self-defence "in order
to kill the magicians who trusted in their magical arts to deliver them out of
the hands of the tribunal." But this explanation does not mend the matter.
Magic is a thing absolutely unlawful and expressly forbidden by God. But
it may well be doubted whether the members of this great council confined
their magical exercitations to the killing of magicians. We find elsewhere,
that the rabbis at least made other magical experiments, and have even re-
corded the means which they employed, for the benefit of posterity. We refer
to Talmud Berachoth 6a, where the people and all Israel are instructed in the
means to see demons. The passage being too silly, we refrain from giving it.

"The whole of this passage is expunged from the later editions. It is
given here on the authority of the MSS. and early editions set forth by Rab-
binowicz. The words in [ ] are from MSS.

3O THE MONIST.

according to Rabbi Eliezer. The sages say, None is hung
except the blasphemer and he who practices a false wor-
ship." The corpse was hung to a cross or else to a single
beam, of which one end rested on the ground, the other
against a wall (same Mishnah). The Gospels, of course,
say nothing about a stoning of Jesus, and the Talmudic
tradition is probably an inference from the fact that he
was known to have been hung. The inference would be
further strengthened by the application of the text, Deut.
xxi. 23, "He that is hanged is accursed of God," a text
which Paul had to disarm in reference to Jesus (Gal. iii.
13). The Talmud knows nothing of an execution of Jesus
by the Romans, as modern Jews claim, but makes it wholly
the act of the Jews.

What is meant by the herald going forth during forty
days before the death of Jesus, is hard to tell. The herald
is, of course, fictitious; the number forty may have its
origin in the Gospel. The phrase that Jesus was "near to the
kingdom/' Laible interprets as referring to the "Roman
authorities," which would explain the hesitation of Pontius
Pilate to put Jesus to death. We rather prefer the sugges-
tion that the reference is to the supposed Davidic descent
of Jesus, a suggestion made by the late Professor Delitzsch
in his Jesus and Hillel (3d ed., 1879) where he says on
page 12, note: "Mary is also called in the Talmuds a
daughter of Eli, and Jesus is called (Sanhedrin 430) 're-
lated to the royal house (of David)/ '

JESUS IN HhLL.

In the Talmud Gittin 56^ 570, we read : "Onkelos bar
Kalonikos, nephew of Titus, desired to become a Jew. He
called up Titus by necromancy. He said to him, 'Who is
honored in this world?' He replied, 'Israel/ 'What about
joining them?' He replied, 'Their words are many and

THE PERSONALITY OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 3!

thou canst not fulfil them. Go, join thyself to them in this
world and thou shalt become a leader, for it is written
(Lam. i. 5), "Her adversaries have become the head."
Every oppressor of Israel is made a head.' He said to him,
'What is thy punishment?' He replied, That which I
have determined for myself. Every day my ashes are col-
lected and I am judged; then I am burnt and the ashes
scattered over seven seas.'

"He called up Balaam by necromancy. He said to him,
'Who is honored in this world?' He replied, 'Israel.'
'What about joining them?' He replied (Deut. xxiii. 6),
'Thou shalt not seek their peace or their prosperity all thy
days.' He said to him, 'What is the punishment of this
man?' He replied, 'By boiling pollution.'

"He called up Jesus by necromancy. He said to him,
'Who is honored in this world?' He replied, 'Israel.'
'What about joining them ?' He replied, 'Seek their good,
seek not their harm. Every one who injures them, (it is)
as if he injured the apple of his eye.' He said, 'What is the
punishment of this man?' He replied, 'By boiling filth.'
For a teacher has said, 'Every one who mocks at the words
of the wise is punished by boiling filth.' Come and see
the difference between the sinners of Israel and the heathen
prophets !' '

The object of the gruesome story contained in this
passage is to show the fate of the three chief enemies of
Israel, i. e., Titus, Balaam and Jesus. And although Jesus
is made to regard the Jews as the chosen race, the specially
beloved, the apple of Yahveh's eye, yet his punishment
seems to be the severest. Whatever that punishment was
we know not. At any rate it expresses a hatred towards
the most hated of all hated men.

The information which we derive from the Talmudic
notices of Jesus is very little if any at all. They add noth-
ing new to the authentic history of Jesus, as contained in

32 THE MONIST.

the Gospels. In general, though not in detail, they serve
to confirm the Christian tradition, by giving independent,
and indeed hostile evidence that Jesus of Nazareth really
existed, a fact which has by some been called in question.
But if, beyond this, the Talmudic Jesus-tradition has no
value for the history of Christianity, it shows the attitude
of Judaism as represented by its leaders, towards Jesus.
He is the deceiver, the sorcerer, the apostate, the "Sinner
of Israel" ; his birth Jewish contempt blackened into a dis-
grace, and his death is dismissed as the mere execution of
a pernicious criminal. And thus it is to this day. To
understand Jesus and his religion Judaism must divest
itself of Rabbinism. Not the Talmud, but the New Testa-
ment is the real source for the history of Jesus.

BERNHARD PICK.
NEWARK, N. J.

THE NATURE OF LOGICAL AND MATHEMAT-
ICAL THOUGHT.

INTRODUCTORY.

HUMAN thought is dominated by methods based upon
a principle which in its various applications is called
reason, and the total set of the rules of reason is called
logic. In the same way all computations, and further all
space-conceptions, measurements of distance and of direc-
tion, depend upon a science which has much in common
with logic and has received the name "knowledge-lore" or
"mathematics."

Experience has shown that the accomplishments of both
logic and mathematics are most marvelous. They are the
woof of the web in the fabric of all the sciences, and human
civilization is their most palpable product. In fact we may
say that man himself, especially the scientific thinker, is
nothing but reason (viz., logic and mathematics) incar-
nate. All that distinguishes man from brute creation con-
sists in his ability to think with definite methods, to be
logical and exact in measuring and counting.

Now it is strange that the nature of man's rationality
is by no means universally recognized. Opinions vary
greatly concerning its foundation and its origin, and this
divergence has come out most plainly in a new develop-
ment of mathematical thought which has produced pecu-
liar systems of mathematics differing from the traditional
Euclidean system. There is still missing, however, a new

34 THE MONIST.

system of logic which would be contradictory to the logic
of Aristotle.

The revolution against the old views began with an
attack on the axiom of parallel lines; and the idea that
through any point C, there ought to be one and only one
straight line parallel to a given straight line AB, has been
set aside to make room for a higher and more general
mathematics, a pangeometry, where the Euclidean assump-
tion would be only one special case among other possi-
bilities. Other new systems have indeed been developed
in which Euclid's parallel postulate is set aside as un-
proven, and as a result the view has been commonly ac-
cepted that other non-Euclidean geometries are possible.

Mathematics is at present dominated by a tendency
which may be called experimentalism. The mathematician
hungers for facts, for a basis in the realm of concrete
sense-experience. He envies his brethren the naturalists,
whose methods since the days of Darwin have enjoyed an
enormous boom. He has been living for centuries in a
domain of pure thought, and he wants now to stand on
the ground of actuality. The natural sciences have attained
wonderful results in the shape of inventions and discov-
eries, and some mathematicians feel that they are left be-
hind in the race and so they are making vigorous efforts
to emulate the naturalist method of investigation.

This hankering for facts in the domain of mathematics
is in our opinion an aberration. Mathematics is a crea-
tion of pure thought. It is built up in the domain of any-
ness — a product of abstraction. Questions as to the nature
of actual (i. e., objective) space, whether it be Euclidean
or non-Euclidean, homaloidal or curved, homogeneous or
heterogeneous, three-, four-, or w-dimensional, are all be-
side the mark. Mathematicians of great repute, who at
the same time are masters of all the details of their science,
have raised questions such as these: "Will not a straight

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 35

line finally, after billions of miles (or perhaps at a distance
of billions of light years) return into itself?" or "May not
the sum of the angles of a plane triangle, if only measured
in cosmic proportions sweeping through the stellar heav-
ens, prove to be a little more or a little less than 180
degrees ?" or, "Are the opposite angles in a parallelogram
really equal?" or "Is objective space such as we think it
or is it different ? Is space Euclidean or non- Euclidean ? Is
it tri- or four- or many-dimensional?" All these and kin-
dred problems prove that those who propose them, — I say
so with all deference to their learnedness and yet with per-
fect assurance — do not understand anything of the foun-
dations of mathematics.

According to my conception of mathematics, we have
created the plane, and in plane geometry the straight line
is straight and remains straight into infinity, the right
angle is a right angle wherever it may be constructed in
a plane, and the angles of a plane triangle measure exactly
1 80 degrees, nothing more, nothing less. There is no
approximation; everything is exactly so. Such is the
nature of mathematical thought which, in this respect, is
different from the facts of the natural sciences. In the
natural sciences our observations and measurements are
never perfectly exact; they are always approximations.

The natural sciences deal with particulars, and gen-
eralized statements have been gained by induction from
an observation of several or many particular experiences.
But logic and mathematics are sciences of pure form and
their productions are mental constructions which are rig-
idly and unequivocally determined, and there is no ap-
proximation about their truth. I may add here that as
there are no mathematical planes and lines so there are
no syllogisms in the objective world of fact, but there are
uniformities for the tracing of which logical rules are
serviceable, and in the domain of logic the syllogisms are

36 THE MONIST.

as rigid as are the propositions of Euclid in plane geom-
etry.

To the new-fangled non-Euclideans and to adherents
of the New-Science conception this statement may appear
antiquated and old-fashioned, but a close inspection will
prove that science still stands on the old foundations, and
though in the course of modern development new and
broader viewpoints have been gained, science will after all
be found to remain on the Rock of Ages, on that irrefrag-
able consistency of natural events which can be formu-
lated in the so-called natural laws and finds its noblest
development in the rationality of the human mind, viz.,
in those eternalities which are ultimately nothing but
the consistency of thinking, the consistency of doing, the
consistency of being. The author has published two books
on this most important problem, Kant's Prolegomena (be-
ing a critical discussion of the Kantian solution) and The
Foundations of Mathematics} and he wishes here to pre-
sent a brief recapitulation of his views and add some com-
ments on conceptions which differ from his own.

THE AUTHOR'S POSITION.

The belief in a consistency of existence is first a mere
faith, based upon an instinctive apprehension of law under-
lying all regularities ; but this faith proves the more reliable
the deeper we penetrate into the nature of being.

A condition of uniformities which admits a possibility
of formulating them in natural laws is called in German,
Gesetzmassigkeit, and this has as yet no equivalent in Eng-
lish. We propose to call it "lawdeterminedness" or simply
"lawdom,"* and would define lawdom as a state of things
in which all events take place according to general rules,

* The word "lawdom" is formed in analogy to kingdom, freedom, wisdom,
Christendom. Dom is derived from the same root as doom, "judgment," and
means in kingdom the dominion of a king; in wisdom, the prevalence of the
wise; in freedom, the sway of the free; and in lawdom, it means a condition
determined by law.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 3/

viz., the laws of nature. In this sense we say that the
consistency of natural phenomena manifests itself as law-
dom.

Every contradiction is a problem and every solution
of a problem becomes a renewed justification of our belief
in the consistency of existence. This belief appears for a
time as a divine revelation and finally becomes the assured
result of science. If there were no consistency there would
be no science, reason would be a mere coincidence of hap-
hazard regularities, and a trust in the efficiency of reason
should be branded as a vagary of deluded dreamers.

The very existence of reason is an evidence that the
universe is consistent throughout, and human reason is an
instinctive comprehension of this most remarkable feature
of existence, while science is simply the methodical applica-
tion of reason.

This resume sounds very simple, yet sometimes it is
difficult to state and comprehend simple truths. We shall
have to grant that simple truths stand in need of elucida-
tion, for in the infinite manifoldness of actual existence
they are rendered quite complex, and thus it happens that
great thinkers encounter many difficulties which can be
surmounted only by a most scrupulous exactness.

While experience and experiment can not settle the
problems as to the nature of mathematical space, we must
grant that there is one great truth in the tendency of mod-
ern mathematics. It is this, that mathematics is not ab-
solutely independent of experience. Though mathematics
is a purely mental construction, the method of its construc-
tion is derived from experience. In other words, though
mathematics is, in the terminology of Kant, a priori, our
modus operandi is a function which we have procured by
abstraction from our activity evinced in the domain of the
a posteriori. We cancel in thought everything particular
which comprises all things concrete, be they of matter or

38 THE MONIST.

energy, and retain only our mental faculty of doing some-
thing, including a field of action implied by the possibility
of moving about. This field of action with its absolute
absence of all particularity is characterized by generality.
In other words, it is the domain of anyness.

Accordingly we do not start in mathematics with noth-
ing, nor do we go about our business blindly. In arithmetic
we operate by taking a step and repeating it again and
again. Thus we posit a unit, then we proceed to posit
another unit and another, and each unit is the same as all
the rest. We count them and operate with their sums.
Such is arithmetic or the science of numbers.

When we bear in mind that mathematics is a mental
construction we will readily understand that sums in arith-
metic are products of synthesis. Every number is the
result of an addition, and addition is no mere analysis of
the idea of number ; it partakes of the synthetic character
and becomes possible only through the procedure of posit-
ing new units and summing up the total result.

Kant was astonished to find that even the most simple
arithmetical calculation (such as 8+5=13) was not the
result of a mere analysis of the numbers implied, but was
of a synthetic nature. Analytical judgments do not teach
us new truths ; they only render the ideas we have clearer
and more definite, while synthetic operations increase our
stock of knowledge. This puzzled him, for according to
his nomenclature all mathematical, arithmetical and log-
ical propositions were a priori, and all a priori propositions
were quite commonly (though erroneously) assumed to be
purely analytic. So he came to the conclusion that man's
faculty of making a priori constructions constituted in it-
self a source of positive knowledge, — of knowledge that
could be increased and amplified without resorting to sense-
experience.1

*I use the term sense-experience on purpose so as to limit the meaning

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 39

By a priori knowledge Kant understands all that knowl-
edge which is presupposed in experience of any kind. When
the chemist analyses some compound and finds in his re-
torts 87% of its mass, he concludes that he lost 13%; he
does not assume that during the process 100 particles have
shrunk into 87, or that 13% have vanished into nothing.
They are lost to him but have not been annihilated. In the
same way all mathematical and logical propositions are
relied upon. They are trusted above all experience, and
if we make an experiment the result of which contradicts
them (or seems to contradict them), we doubt our observa-
tions and distrust our experiment. We seek the fault in
our notion of the facts in question, not in the principles of
reason. We may distrust our calculations and our argu-
ments, but we never doubt the reliability of mathematics
and logic. If an astronomer watches a comet, and deter-
mines three stations of its course by observation, he can
map out a curve which is analogous to its path of motion,
and in the same way all the formal sciences furnish us with
a key that will unlock to us the mysteries of objective ex-
istence. This state of things, the agreement of our purely
formal thought-construction with the laws of nature, is
a most wonderful coincidence and it puzzled Kant to such
an extent as to make of him an idealist, but the problem
is solved if we bear in mind the "anyness" which char-
acterizes our purely formal constructions. If consistency
dominates both objective existence and our thought, both
will be analogous.

How do we produce this anyness?

In geometry we begin with mapping out our field of
operation. First we ignore everything actual or concrete ;
both matter and force are treated as if they were non-
existent and all that is left is motility. We can move in

of the term and to avoid the mistake resulting from the looseness of its use
in Kantian nomenclature. Cf. the author's Fundamental Problems, pp. 26 ff.,
especially 30.

4O THE MONIST.

any direction and everywhere without end. Suppose we
spread out in all directions at once by swelling up, or by
spreading like light from a source of luminescence, we
would cover the entire possibility of our scope of motion.
In such a spread of motion we call a path of greatest in-
tensity corresponding to a ray of light a straight line.
Now we cut space in two and call the boundary between the
two halves a surface. If the cut has been made evenly,
which means by a ray and along a ray, i. e., by a straight
line, which is a line that follows the path of greatest in-
tensity,2 we can flop the surface upon itself and we call it
"a plane."

As a visible representation of the plane we use a sheet
of paper which when folded upon itself produces the straight
line. We use the folded sheet as a ruler and operate with
it. We lay down units of length ( feet and inches, or meters
and centimeters) for the sake of measuring lines. Then
we draw straight lines in different directions and make
them intersect. Their products are angles. We make
three lines intersect and call the figure thus created a
triangle.

Further on we fold the creased paper upon itself and
name the corners right angles. The plane, the straight
line, the right angle are boundary conceptions which are
useful because they are unique. There are innumerable
curves, but only one straight line; there are innumerable
obtuse and acute angles, but only one right angle; and
thus these boundaries, these products of halving, will serve
us as standards of reference.

Our next step is the creation of a curve that by its
simplicity would possess the advantage of uniqueness. So,
we draw a circle on our doubly folded sheet of paper from
the point where the two creases meet. Following histor-
ical tradition which can be traced back to the sages of

1 Compare Foundations of Mathematics, pp. 57-58.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 4!

ancient Babylon, we divide the whole circle into 360 de-
grees and we may remember here how their mathematical
instinct was guided and influenced by some facts of obser-
vation. They rounded off the number of days from 365
to 360,* and divided the course of the sun on the ecliptic
into twelve mansions of 30 degrees each, corresponding
to 12 double hours per day.

The next step in geometrical constructions will be the
transfer of angles and the drawing of two straight lines
running in the same direction. We call them parallels.
When two parallels are crossed by a third straight line,
we investigate the nature of the eight angles thus pro-
duced.

We continue to operate by setting ourselves a series
of tasks, and in doing so we can follow Euclid's propo-
sitions in their regular order by dealing with three inter-
secting lines and then with the circle and other figures.
In this way we build up plane geometry without axioms
or assumptions through our own operations, and we re-
main conscious of the method by which we came into pos-
session of the straight line, the right angle, the parallel, etc.

There is nothing actual about our operations. All our
achievements are purely mental ; they lack concrete reality.
There is no matter, no force in our constructions, and yet
they are not nothing. The path of our motion is a line,
and where two lines cross we have a point. A point is no
concrete thing, yet it is not a nonentity ; it is a locus in the
field of our motion, a spot the position of which is definitely
determined on either of the crossed lines. We do not find
a plane anywhere in actual life, we construct it ; and in the
same sense straight lines and right angles are the products
of our construction.

1 The difference was made up every sixth year by the introduction of an
intercalary month — the month of the raven, and it is noteworthy that the
number 13 as well as the symbol of the thirteenth monh, the raven, have re-
mained omens of ill luck to this day.

42 THE MONIST.

Nothing proves so well that our space-conception is in
Kant's sense a priori as the possibility of non-Euclidean
geometries. There is only one rule to guide our opera-
tions, consistency, and since particularity of any kind has
been banished, the same operation will always and every-
where produce the same result. We operate in an abso-
lutely empty field and our constructions are solely deter-
mined by the nature of our operations. All we have to do
is to note the consequences of our transactions.

We might have constructed another field for our opera-
tions, for instance, the surface of a globe; and if we had
done so from the start, our products would have been dif-
ferent. Straight lines would have become impossible and
lines analogous to Euclidean straight lines would be larg-
est circles. They are "shortest" or "straightest" lines ; not
truly straight in the Euclidean sense, they are the straight-
est lines possible. While two straight lines in the plane
never enclose a space, two straightest lines on the sphere
always enclose a space; and while the former intersect
in one point (or if they are parallel not at all), the latter
always intersect at two points and these two points are
antipodal.

The construction of spherical geometry is quite simple
and it is as easily pictured in visible figures as plane geom-
etry; but there are other geometries possible, less simple
and more difficult to describe or to render representable.
Each one of them possesses its own characteristics and the-
oretically considered all of them are equally legitimate.
They are all mental constructions. They are all based upon
the principle of consistency and obey the general laws of
logic, for if they did not recognize consistency, our opera-
tions would end in chaos.

The systems of Euclid, of Bolyai, of Lobatchevsky and
others, including 4- or w-dimensional manifoldnesses, are
a priori on the same footing. The difference comes in

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 43

when they are applied to practical purposes, and here the
Euclideans have after all the advantage. The non-Euclid-
eans make up for it by an enthusiasm as strong as the zeal
of religious devotees which on the one hand deserves our
admiration while on the other it has a humorous aspect.

That logic and mathematics come from the same root
must have been felt by Euclid and his school, for what
they call "common notions" are formulations of logical
principles, while the description of the characteristics of
space are laid down in the definitions and postulates. But
the significance of the kinship between these two sciences,
it appears, was first felt by Kant who may have been
guided in this by his great contemporary Lambert.

Since the time of Kant, both logicians and mathema-
ticians have felt the need of investigating the nature of
thought-operations and of broadening the concepts of logic
in a similar way as the metageometricians endeavor to
construct a pangeometry which would be independent of
our conception of Euclidean space. The first classical work
which broadened the traditional logic was written by
George Boole under the title The Laws of Thought, and
since then logicians have felt the insufficiency of Aristotle's
logic and the need of deciphering the nature of thought
in its operations. They attempted to transfer the accom-
plishments of mathematics upon logic, and to exhibit the
function of reason in formulas, or in graphic presentations,
or in algebraic notations. Workers in this line are Ernst
Schroeder, Charles S. S. Peirce, Giuseppe Peano, Bertrand
Russell, and Louis Couturat. It is a new branch of scien-
tific endeavor and we may expect results of great interest,
yea even of far-reaching importance.

The writer's opinion is that labors of this kind consti-
tuting the new mathematics and the new logic are quite
legitimate. They will widen our horizon but they do not
(and never will) reverse, antiquate, or abolish the assured

44 THE MONIST.

accomplishments of the past. Neither Bolyai nor Lobat-
chevsky upsets Euclid and none of the modern logicians
will ever set aside Aristotle.

, NON- ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC.

Now, it is possible to imagine a fairy-tale world where
our scientific conception of cause and effect could be crossed
by a causation of miracle. In such a world the magician's
word would be endowed with an energy unknown in phys-
ics, but it would remain a world governed by law, and the
rule of consistency would not be upset. Every effort would
presuppose a cause and causation would still be dominated
by law. The purely formal rules of Aristotelian logic
would not be upset thereby. The mill remains the same
even if the grist is changed. We would have law-deter-
minedness or lawdom in both worlds. The forces and
materials would be different but not the consistency of the
concatenation of events.

Aristotelian logic is incomplete and insufficient. It
treats only the most simple relations and does not cover
the more complicated cases of thinking, but so far as it
goes it is without fault. If we grant that all men are mor-
tal and that Caius is a man, we must make the conclusion
that Caius is mortal — otherwise he would not be a man
but some immortal being, and this would upset the prin-
ciple of consistency.

We might assume that there are no uniformities in
nature, or that all rules have exceptions, or that the uni-
formities are mere approximations, in which case we would
have a world of haphazard happenings. But that would
never upset either Barbara or celarent, or any other rule
of pure logic. The items of actual existence would not
be classifiable, but the Aristotelian method would not
thereby become wrong.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 45

Some time ago I made the following comment on the
nature of logic in the Primer of Philosophy, (p. 109) :

"Mathematicians with great ingenuity have invented
various kinds of mathematics. They have shown that
Euclidean geometry is but one actual case among many
possible instances. Space might be curved, it might be
more than three-dimensional. But no one has yet been
bold enough to propound a theory of curved reason.

"And why should there not as well exist a curved logic
as a mathematics of curved space? A curved logic would
be a very original innovation for which no patent has yet
been applied for. What a splendid opportunity to acquire
Riemann's fame in the domain of logic!"

Now it happens that my friend, Mr. Francis C. Russell
of Chicago, received a letter on sundry topics of modern
logic from Mr. Charles S. S. Peirce, known as one of the
most prominent logicians, and it contains a most inter-
esting passage which sounds like an answer to this chal-
lenge of mine. With the permission of the writer I quote
it in this connection:

"Before I took up the general study of relatives, I made some
investigation into the consequences of supposing the laws of logic
to be different from what they are. It was a sort of non-Aristo-
telian logic, in the sense in which we speak of non-Euclidean geom-
etry. Some of the developments were somewhat interesting, but
not sufficiently so to induce me to publish them. The general idea
was, of course, obvious to anybody of sufficient grasp of logical
analysis to see that logic reposes upon certain positive facts, and
is not mere formalism. Another writer afterward suggested such
a false logic, as if it were the wildest lunacy, instead of being a
plain and natural hypothesis worth looking into [notwithstanding
its falsity]."*

I begin to think that Mr. Charles S. S. Peirce under-
stands something else by Aristotelian logic than I do.

* In giving his consent to publish this extract from his letter, Mr. Charles
S. S. Peirce sends an additional explanation which is published on page 158
of the present number.

46 THE MONIST.

The world has seen many new inventions. Over the
telephone we can talk at almost unlimited distances, and
some of our contemporaries fly like birds through the air.
Radium has been discovered which is often assumed with
a certain show of plausibility to upset the laws of physics,
but the invention of non-Aristotelian logic would cap the
climax. We make bold to prophesy that the non-Aristo-
telian logic will abolish Aristotle as little as the non-
Euclideans have antiquated Euclid. If it comes it will,
if it be sound, give us new viewpoints, but it will not abolish
one iota of the well-established truths of the old logic.
Of course, a non- Aristotelian logic would be "worth look-
ing into," even if it were a vain attempt. Nous verrons.

PROFESSOR BERTRAND RUSSELL'S VIEWS.

Since the publication of my two books on this subject,
Kant's Prolegomena and The Foundations of Mathematics,
I came across an article by one of the most famous mathe-
maticians of our time, Professor Bertrand Russell of Cam-
bridge, England, a scholar of great erudition and author
of many valuable books, among which is an excellent book
on The Foundations of Geometry. If Professor James or
his pragmatist adherents speak of Euclid as superseded
and no longer true, they are not to be taken seriously, and
there is no need of refuting them ; but the case is different
when mathematicians of standing make similar declara-
tions. Professor Russell's article on "Recent Work on the
Principles of Mathematics," published in the International
Monthly, is bewildering to me. The very style and presen-
tation of the subject is fascinating, perhaps because the
arguments seem paradoxical. At any rate the author's
prominence has caused me to reconsider my own position,
but I can only say that in spite of his unquestioned author-
ity I cling to my own views. All I can do is to contrast
his ideas with my own, and for the sake of fairness I will

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 47

quote extensively from his essay so as to let him present
his views in his own words.

I shall begin with a quotation which I heartily endorse.
Professor Russell says (pp. 84-85):

"Logic, broadly speaking, is distinguished by the fact that its
propositions can be put into a form in which they apply to anything
whatever. All pure mathematics — arithmetic, analysis, and geom-
etry— is built up by combinations of the primitive ideas of logic,
and its propositions are deduced from general axioms of logic, such
as the syllogism and the other rules of inference. And this is no
longer a dream or an aspiration. On the contrary, over the greater
and more difficult part of the domain of mathematics, it has been
already accomplished ; in the few remaining cases, there is no special
difficulty, and it is now being rapidly achieved. Philosophers have
disputed for ages whether such deduction was possible; mathe-
maticians have sat down and made the deduction. For the philos-
ophers there is now nothing left but graceful acknowledgements."

My mode of thinking has complied with the demand.
I would replace the expression "axioms of logic" by "the
principle of consistency," but otherwise I would feel in
perfect agreement with Professor Russell, if his article
did not abound in many other statements which appear
to me irreconcilable with this unequivocal and simple de-
scription of the situation.

The reader will notice that Professor Russell is rather
hard on philosophers, but it can not be denied that philos-
ophers, at least many men who have gained fame under
that name, have unduly slighted mathematics. It is strange,
though perhaps natural, that mathematicians like Schroe-
der and Peano have distinguished themselves in the con-
struction of an algebra of logic. Furthermore there are
a number of modern mathematicians, inspired by the
broader and more philosophical conceptions of mathemat-
ical notions, who have advanced their science by taking
new view-points. Professor Russell mentions three great
Germans, Weierstrass, Dedekind and Cantor, whose mer-

40 THE MONIST.

its are indubitable. Other names might have been added,
such as Clebsch, Grassmann, Fuchs, Klein, Lindemann
and Staudt, but I fail to see that any one of them has tried
to solve or claims to have solved the philosophical problem
of the foundation of mathematics. The great drift of their
labors, so far as I can judge, is, with the exception of the
work of Grassmann, purely mathematical.

I grant that Euclid has his faults, but I believe that
his mistakes can be remedied. I also grant that "he is
not an easy author and terribly long winded." I deem his
proofs tiresome with the monotonous refrain, Q. E. D.,
and I would replace his method as suggested above by
changing the doctrinary style of propositions into the ac-
complishment of tasks. But for all that, Euclidean ge-
ometry remains classical, and I can not understand Pro-
fessor Russell's harsh verdict when he says (p. 100) :

"It is nothing less than a scandal that he should still be taught
to boys in England. A book should have either intelligibility or
correctness ; to combine the two is impossible, but to lack both is to
be unworthy of such a place as Euclid has occupied in education."

I do not agree with Professor Russell that "to combine
the two," (viz., intelligibility and correctness) is "impos-
sible." If that were so we would land in mysticism.

Here is another passage on Euclid. Professor Russell
says (p. 98) :

"It has gradually appeared, by the increase of non-Euclidean
systems, that geometry throws no more light upon the nature of
space than arithmetic throws upon the population of the United
States."

True, the formal sciences never supply us with facts;
but they offer us a method of dealing with facts, and that
is better. Professor Russell continues :

"Geometry is a whole collection of deductive sciences based
on a corresponding collection of sets of axioms. One set of axioms
is Euclid's ; other equally good sets of axioms lead to other results.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 49

Whether Euclid's axioms are true, is a question as to which the
pure mathematician is indifferent ; and what is more, it is a question
which it is theoretically impossible to answer with certainty in the
affirmative. It might possibly be shown, by very careful measure-
ments, that Euclid's axioms are false ; but no measurements could
ever assure us (owing to the errors of observation) that they are
exactly true. Thus the geometer leaves to the man of science to
decide, as best he may, what axioms are most nearly true in the
actual world."

Since Euclid's geometry consists of constructions of
pure thought, since there are no points, lines, surfaces,
planes, etc., in the objective world, it is obviously impos-
sible to test the truth of Euclidean propositions by actual
measurement. Professor Russell does not define his con-
ception of truth. We would say that a Euclidean propo-
sition is true when it is an adequate or correct description
of the results of a construction. The question is not, what
axioms are most nearly true in the actual world, but which
geometry is most serviceable in calculating the relations
that obtain in the actual world.

Professor Russell frequently indulges in mystifications.
He says (p. 84) :

"Mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never
know what we are talking about, nor whether what we are saying
is true. People who have been puzzled by the beginnings of mathe-
matics will, I hope, find comfort in this definition, and will prob-
ably agree that it is accurate."

All this is ingeniosius quam verius. Statements can
easily assume a paradoxical form when they are based upon
an inaccuracy of terms. Mathematical propositions do not
describe realities, but, because lines and planes are not
real, we can not say that what mathematics teaches is "not
true." Nor is it fair to define mathematics as "the subject
in which we never know what we are talking about."

I understand that Professor Russell bases his view
upon the method of some Italian mathematicians who avoid

5O THE MONIST.

a discussion of the foundation of mathematics by the use
of a conditional "if." They start their proposition by say-
ing, "If I do this, the result will be such and such." The
"if" sentence is purely hypothetical and they do not trouble
about it, but if it be allowed to stand the result can not
be denied. Professor Russell explains the situation thus:

"Pure mathematics consists entirely of asseverations to the effect
that, if such and such a proposition is true of anything, then such
and such another proposition is true of that thing. It is essential
not to discuss whether the first proposition is really true and not to
mention what the anything is, of which it is supposed to be true.
Both these points would belong to applied mathematics. We start,
in pure mathematics, from certain rules of inference, by which we
can infer that if one proposition is true, then so is some other propo-
sition. These rules of inference constitute the principles of formal
logic. We then take any hypothesis that seems assuring, and deduce
its consequences. If our hypothesis is about anything, and not about
some one or more particular things, then our deductions constitute
mathematics."

We may grant that "the rules of inference constitute
the principles of formal logic." But why should it be "es-
sential not to discuss whether the first proposition is really
true?" I propose to avoid the vicious "if" which leaves
the entire science of mathematics in the air, and to dig
down to the bottom rock of our mode of thought and build
the foundation that is needed for the superstructure of this
noblest and loftiest of all the sciences.

If my conception of mathematics is true we do not
need in geometry "a certain number of primitive ideas,
supposed incapable of definition and a certain number of
primitive propositions or axioms, supposed to be incapable
of proof."4 We remove every trace of particularity and
build upon the abstract idea of "anyness" a universe of
pure thought which will serve as a model for any possible
formation, fictitious or real.

* ibid., p. 84-

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 51

Professor Russell lays much stress on the symbolic
nature of modern logic, and I grant that the significance
of symbolism can not be overrated. I would insist that
language of any kind, yea even sense-perceptions, are sym-
bolic, and the very nature of thought is symbolism. Sense-
impressions change into sensations and sensations become
perceptions solely through becoming symbolic. As soon
as a sense-impression of a definite kind has come to repre-
sent some fact, an event or an object that causes it, then the
sense-perception stands for or symbolizes the fact sensed.
This is the origin of thought, and we have defined the soul
as "a system of sentient symbols." Professor Russell ap-
parently uses the term "symbol" in the more limited sense
of an algebraic symbol. He says (p. 85) :

"People have discovered how to make reasoning symbolic, as
it is in Algebra, so that deductions are effected by mathematical
rules."

Algebraic symbols have the great advantage over lan-
guage that they are definite and rigid. Language suffers
from the fault of being vague. The use of our speech is
incredibly loose and even the most common words, such
as "to be," "to have," "we," "you," etc. possess several
shades of meaning. This is not so in algebra and so logi-
cians hope to overcome the looseness of reasoning in lan-
guage by the employment of symbols which are as rigidly
defined as the algebraic terms. The invention of such
terms and of their mode of operation is a difficult task, and
it would require a good deal of concentration of thought
for any one to familiarize himself with a system of such
an algebra of logic ; but the gain is rich when we consider
that thought acquires thereby the virtue of mathematical
exactness. The trouble so far has been that there has been
too little cooperation among logicians and almost every
one of them invents symbols of his own.

Professor Russell's love of paradox appears in his expo-

52 THE MONIST.

sition of the importance of symbolism. He says (pp. 85-
86):

"It is not easy for the lay mind to realize the importance of
symbolism in discussing the foundations of mathematics, and the
explanation may perhaps seem strangely paradoxical. The fact is
that symbolism is useful because it makes things difficult. (This is
not true of the advanced parts of mathematics, but only of the
beginnings.) What we wish to know is, what can be deduced from
what. Now, in the beginnings, everything is self-evident; and it
is very hard to see whether one self-evident proposition follows
from another or not. Obviousness is always the enemy of correct-
ness. Hence we invent some new and difficult symbolism, in which
nothing seems obvious. Then we set up certain rules for operating
on the symbols, and the whole thing becomes mechanical."

We would not say that "symbolism is useful because
it makes things difficult," but because it makes thought
exact, and further, though it will prove difficult in the be-
ginning, it will make exact thinking easy. It will show
in a formula the machinery of thought and thus will render
the process of thinking intelligible. In the same way a
beginner in algebra may deem this mode of computation
hard, but as soon as he has mastered its principles he will
be enabled thereby to solve difficult problems without great
exertion.

One of Professor Russell's observations is very good,
though again stated in such a way as to make its truth
appear in a paradoxical light. We must be on our guard
against statements that appeal to us as obvious. The rec-
ords of the history of philosophy and of religious dogma
contain many flagrant instances of ideas deemed to be
innate and of truths supposedly so obvious that it was
claimed they did not stand in need of any proof. Pro-
fessor Russell says (p. 86) :

"The proof of self-evident propositions may seem, to the un-
initiated, a somewhat frivolous occupation. To this we might reply
that it is often by no means self-evident that one obvious proposi-

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 53

tion follows from another obvious proposition ; so that we are really
discovering new truths when we prove what is evident by a method
which is not evident. But a more interesting retort is, that since
people have tried to prove obvious propositions, they have found
that many of them are false. Self-evidence is often a mere will-
o'-the-wisp, which is sure to lead us astray if we take it as our
guide."

When Professor Russell speaks of " a method which
is not self-evident" I understand him to mean a method
which must first prove its right of existence.

The mathematician should banish from his science any
proposition which can show no other title than the claim of
self-evidence. For this reason I have endeavored to do
away with axioms and to build up mathematics without
resorting to assumptions, self-evident statements, or assev-
erations of any kind. I wish Professor Russell would not
describe mathematics as consisting of "asseverations" ; the
very idea is jarring on my conception of the nature of
mathematics.

Among modern mathematicians Professor Peano has
distinguished himself by an application of the algebraic
method to mathematics in general, and Professor Russell
looks up to him as a leader. He says (pp. 86-87) :

"The great master of the art of formal reasoning, among the
men of our day, is an Italian, Professor Peano, of the University
of Turin. He has reduced the greater part of mathematics (and
he or his followers will, in time, have reduced the whole) to strict
symbolic form, in which there are no words at all. In the ordinary
mathematical book, there are no doubt fewer words than most
readers would wish. Still, little phrases occur, such as therefore,
let us assume, consider, or hence it follows. All these, however,
are a concession, and are swept away by Professor Peano. For
instance, if we wish to learn the whole of arithmetic, algebra, the
calculus, and indeed all that is usually called pure mathematics (ex-
cept geometry), we must start with a dictionary of three words.
One symbol stands for zero, another for number, and a third for
next after. What these ideas mean, it is necessary to know if you

54 THE MONIST.

wish to become an arithmetician. But after symbols have been in-
vented for these three ideas, not another word is required in the
whole development. All future symbols are symbolically explained
by means of these three. Even these three can be explained by
means of the notions of relation and class ; but this requires the logic
of relations, which Professor Peano has never taken up."

Further down on page 99 Professor Russell says :

"One great advance, from the point of view of correctness, has
been made by introducing points as they are required, and not start-
ing, as was formerly done, by assuming the whole of space. This
method is due partly to Peano, partly to another Italian named Fano.
To those unaccustomed to it, it has an air of somewhat wilful ped-
antry. In this way, we begin with the following axioms : ( I ) There
is a class of entities called points. (2) There is at least one point.
(3) If a be a point, there is at least one other point besides a. Then
we bring in the straight line joining two points, and begin again
with (4) namely, on the straight line joining a and b, there is at
least one other point besides a and b. (5) There is at least one
point not on the line ab. And so we go on, till we have the means
of obtaining as many points as we require. But the word space,
as Peano humorously remarks, is one for which geometry has no
use at all."

There is no need of using the word "space," but is not
the idea of space of some kind presupposed in the notion of
a line, or even in the notion of a point? What is a point
except a spot in space ? Professor Russell must excuse me
for finding Professor Fano's method of avoiding the diffi-
culty comical. He starts "There is a class of entities
called points. There is at least one point. If a be a point,
there is at least one other point besides a." This is all very
nice and begins like a fairy-tale, "Once upon a time." He
rushes these statements upon us with an unmitigated ab-
ruptness which is truly naive. He has points, lines, dis-
tances, directions, but knows nothing of space. The very
word "space" is abolished! Such are "the rigid methods
employed by modern geometers" that "have deposed Euclid
from his pinnacle of correctness"!

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 55

I feel strongly inclined to enter into Professor Russell's
discussion of Zeno's problem, but space forbids. It would
take an essay by itself, but a few comments on the subject
may be permitted. Professor Russell presents the issues
so interestingly that I wish I could read the whole expo-
sition to my readers. A sample will prove that this is not
mere courtesy. Professor Russell speaks of the infinitesi-
mal as follows (pp. 89-90) :

"The infinitesimal played formerly a great part in mathematics.
It was introduced by the Greeks, who regarded a circle as differing
infmitesimally from a polygon with a very large number of very
small equal sides. It gradually grew in importance, until, when
Leibnitz invented the infinitesimal calculus, it seemed to become the
fundamental notion of all higher mathematics. Carlyle tells, in his
Frederick the Great, how Leibnitz used to discourse to Queen Sophia
Charlotte of Prussia concerning the infinitely little, and how she
would reply that on that subject she needed no instruction — the
behavior of courtiers had made her thoroughly familiar with it.
But philosophers and mathematicians — who for the most part had
less acquaintance with courts — continued to discuss this topic, though
without making any advance. The calculus required continuity,
and continuity was supposed to require the infinitely little; but no-
body could discover what the infinitely little might be. It was
plainly not quite zero, because a sufficiently large number of infini-
tesimals, added together, were seen to make up a finite whole. But
nobody could point out any fraction which was not zero, and yet
not finite. Thus there was a deadlock."

So far as I know, mathematicians have never taken
this deadlock seriously, for they know that the infinitesimal
is a fiction. There are no infinitesimals in the objective
world, and in the ideal realm of mathematics it is an at-
tempt to represent a continuum under the aspect of discrete
units, which is necessary for the purpose of computation.

We have stated above that all thought is symbolic, and
the method of thought depends upon the symbols we em-
ploy. There are two possibilities; we can proceed either
in a path of uninterrupted motion or we may cover the

56 THE MONIST.

ground in steps. The former method is geometrical, the
latter arithmetical. The former is a continuous progress,
the latter an advance in counting units. The former has
the advantage of presenting outlines of pictures in their
totality as images; it is qualitative. The latter sums up
numbers fit for use in computations; it is quantitative.
Now it so happens that sometimes we need one and some-
times the other. A geometrical curve is a continuum, and
so if we wish to calculate it we must change it into a series
of units with a constant change of direction. The smaller
we make these units the more accurate becomes our ap-
proximation • only if they could be made zero, would they
be correct. But since we needs must conceive them as
being ultimately concrete, rectilinear lines, they are treated
as infinitesimals. The very idea is an unrealizable fiction,
but it serves the purpose of a best possible approximation
in describing a continuum in terms of discrete units.

But if the infinitesimal is unreal, because it is a fiction,
how can it be useful ? We must consider that it is a fiction
which serves a purpose. There is a difference between
"fiction" and "a fiction." Every mathematical concept is
"a fiction" in the sense that it is not a thing, not an actual
reality, not a concrete bodily object, but a product of
thought, ein Gedankenwesen, as Kant calls it. If we treat
a product of pure thought as if it were a concrete thing of
objective reality we become involved into contradictions
and are nonplussed. Here the indefiniteness of language
proves a valuable help to mystagogues. We can make
paradoxical statements about any mathematical term by
an ambiguous use of such words as real, actual, true, etc.
We may mean by "real" the concrete materiality of a thing,
its definite effciency in existence, or its objective signifi-
cance. Thus the polar axis around which the earth turns
may be called real or absolutely unreal, purely ideal or
definite and actual.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 57

In consideration of the paramount significance of rela-
tions (i. e. the purely formal aspect of things) the ancient
mystic thinker of China said: "Existence makes things
actual,5 but the non-existent in them makes them useful"
(Lao-Tze's Tao Teh King, Ch. n).

One of Euclid's postulates declares that "the whole is
greater than any of its parts," and we accept this truth for
magnitudes; so far as I can see it can have no meaning
when applied to items in which the quality of magnitude is
absent. Take for instance the purely formal laws of the
universe. They are a part of objective reality and yet
their sphere of application may truly be said to be larger
than that of the whole of which they form a part. By an
a priori construction they have been developed in the sub-
jectivity of the human mind and their sphere of efficiency
applies to any possible world.

The same idea can be stated in religious terms thus:
God is part of the All, yet God is greater than the All.

Professor Russell proposes for refutation a maxim
shaped in imitation of this same postulate of Euclid. He
says when speaking of the evasive nature of obviousness
and self -evidence (p. 86) :

"For instance, nothing is plainer than that a whole always has
more terms than a part, or that a number is increased by adding
one to it. But these propositions are now known to be usually false.
Most numbers are infinite, and if a number is finite you may add
ones to it as long as you like without disturbing it in the least."

Mark the difference. "The whole is greater than any
of its parts" and "the whole has always more terms than
a part." Can we not describe the same thing in one term
and in an infinite series of terms, as for instance:

|- ad infinitum.

• The common translation of li here is "profitable," and the etymology of
the character which contains the roots "knife" and "harmony" indicates a
meaning such as "cutting" or "efficient." The word is now used in the sense
of "sharp." We might translate "pragmatic." But in the present passage
it stands in contrast to "useful," and so I prefer the reading "actual" or "real."

58 THE MONIST.

The number of terms in which we cast our formula
is not identical with the thing described. "One" is not
infinite even though we can express it in an infinite series.
If we ignore the difference between the thing and the
terms in which it is expressed and count the terms numer-
ically or quantitatively with an absolute disregard of their
qualitative value, we are compelled to accept Zeno's solu-
tion of the problem, that Achilles can not overtake the
tortoise in a running match. Professor Russell recapitu-
lates this old conundrum thus (pp. 95-96) :

"Let Achilles and the tortoise start along a road at the same
time, the tortoise (as is only fair) being allowed a handicap. Let
Achilles go twice as fast as the tortoise, or ten times or a hundred
times as fast. Then he will never reach the tortoise. For at every
moment the tortoise is somewhere, and Achilles is somewhere; and
neither is ever twice in the same place while the race is going on.
Thus the tortoise goes to just as many places as Achilles does, be-
cause each is in one place at one moment, and in another at any
other moment. But if Achilles were to catch up with the tortoise,
the places where the tortoise would have been, would be only part
of the places where Achilles would have been. Here, we must sup-
pose, Zeno appealed to the maxim that the whole has more terms
than the part. Thus if Achilles were to overtake the tortoise, he
would have been in more places than the tortoise ; but we saw that
he must, in any period, be in exactly as many places as the tortoise.
Hence we infer that he can never catch the tortoise. This argument
is strictly correct, if we allow the axiom that the whole has more
terms than the part. As the conclusion is absurd, the axiom must
be rejected, and then all goes well. But there is no good word to
be said for the philosophers of the past two thousand years and more,
who have all allowed the axiom and denied the conclusion."

While Professor Russell speaks of Zeno's conclusion
as "absurd," and therefore rejects it, he regards the para-
dox of Tristram Shandy as a mere "oddity" which is a
"paradoxical but perfectly true proposition." He says
(pp. 96-97) :

"The retention of this axiom leads to absolute contradictions,
while its rejection leads only to oddities. Some of these oddities,

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 59

it must be confessed, are very odd. One of them, which I call the
paradox of Tristram Shandy, is the converse of the Achilles, and
shows that the tortoise, if you give him time, will go just as far
as Achilles. Tristram Shandy, as we know, employed two years in
chronicling the first two days of his life, and lamented that, at this
rate, material would accumulate faster than he could deal with it,
so that, as years went by, he would be farther and farther from the
end of his history. Now I maintain that, if he had lived forever,
and had not wearied of his task, then, even if his life had continued
as eventfully as it began, no part of his biography would have re-
mained unwritten. For consider : the hundredth day will be described
in the hundredth year, the thousandth in the thousandth year, and
so on. Whatever day we may choose as so far on that he cannot
hope to reach it, that day will be described in the corresponding year.
Thus any day that may be mentioned will be written up sooner or
later, and therefore no part of the biography will remain perma-
nently unwritten. This paradoxical but perfectly true proposition
depends upon the fact that the number of days in all time is no
greater than the number of years."

I hesitate to say that these two series are equal :
etc., without end, and

etc-> also without end.
Yet if an infinite number of days will cover an infinite
number of years the two series ought to be equal. I am
afraid we shall all be hurled into infinity before we can
find out the truth as to whether an infinity of days is as
large as an infinity of years. If they are equal I should
like to know what part the difference will play, since it will
be the sum of an infinite series of 364 in each term.

I doubt whether the perverted form of Euclid's axiom
is to be blamed (as Professor Russell thinks) for the
deadlock to which Zeno's fallacy leads. I would say in
explanation of the paradox that an infinite series need
not be an actual infinitude. An infinite series is a mental
operation, while an infinitude is the objective extension
without end. An infinite series sometimes describes a very
finite magnitude. For instance, 0.333 is an infinite

6O THE MONIST.

decimal fraction, but the infinite series of its terms (0.3+
0.03+0.003. . . . ) does not involve that it represents an in-
finitude. It would take an infinitude to write all the deci-
mals out in their completeness, but for that reason its value
(say % of a second) is quickly passed and is not equal to
any other infinite series, as for instance a third of an hour.

An infinite series is a function, and the essential feature
of a function is the arrangement and not the number of
its terms. If their number is limited we can sum up the
facit\ if it is unlimited or infinite we can never finish the
function, — we can only approximate it or must let it stand,
but the facit has nothing to do with it. It follows from this
that two infinite series are not necessarily alike, because
they are both infinite. They differ according to their terms
and the arrangement of their terms. Here I am in full
agreement with Professor Russell when he says, "It must
not be supposed that all infinite numbers are equal" (p. 95),
and rightly insists on the significance of "the way in which
the terms are arranged" (p. 94), and the "particular type
of order" (p. 97).

Professor Russell seeks the root of the trouble in the
infinitesimal, but it lies there only if we forget the vague
character of the infinitesimal, and expect it to be a definite
magnitude to boot.

If we had to regard infinitesimals as actual and objec-
tive existences, there would be no such things as the next
moment, and the smallest part. But in order to prove it
we must be careful not to think of "moment" as a short yet
definite measure of time. We could not prove our case if
we said there is no such a thing as the next hour, or minute,
or second, or jiffy. We must identify (as does Professor
Russell) the word "moment" with the term infinitesimal,
viz., the smallest possible fraction of time.

The same is true if we divide a piece of matter. We
may come down to very small bits but shall never reach an

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 6l

infinitesimal. "Nevertheless," says Professor Russell,
"there are points, only they are not reached by successive
division" (p. 91).

True, very true! Yet while in my opinion the propo-
sitions that "there is no next moment" and "there are no
smallest particles" are due to the notion of the infinitesimal
if conceived as an actual existence, Professor Russell at-
tributes these very paradoxes to the abolition of the infini-
tesimal. He says (pp. 90-91):

"But at last Weierstrass discovered that the infinitesimal was
not needed at all, and that everything could be accomplished with-
out it. Thus there was no longer any need to suppose that there
was such a thing

"The banishment of the infinitesimal has all sorts of odd con-
sequences, to which one has to become gradually accustomed. For
example, there is no such thing as the next moment ....

"The same sort of thing happens in space .... we never reach
the infinitesimal in this way."

Professor Russell rejects the infinitesimal but accepts
the infinite and he defines it, too. He says (pp. 92-93) :

"The philosophy of the infinitesimal, as we have just seen, is
mainly negative. People used to believe in it, and now they have
found out their mistake. The philosophy of the infinite, on the
other hand, is wholly positive. It was formerly supposed that in-
finite numbers, and the mathematical infinite generally, were self-
contradictory. But as it was obvious that there were infinities —
for example, the number of numbers — the contradictions of infinity
seemed unavoidable. . . .

"Twenty years ago, roughly speaking, Dedekind and Cantor
asked this question [What is infinity?], and, what is more remark-
able, they answered it. They found, that is to say, a perfectly pre-
cise definition of an infinite number or an infinite collection of things.
This was the first and perhaps the greatest step. It then remained
to examine the supposed contradictions in this notion. Here Cantor
proceeded in the only proper way. He took pairs of contradictory
propositions, in which both sides of the contradiction would be
usually regarded as demonstrable, and he strictly examined the
supposed proofs. He found that all proofs adverse to infinity in-

62 THE MONIST.

volved a certain principle, at first sight obviously true, but destruc-
tive, in its consequences, of almost all mathematics. The proofs
favorable to infinity, on the other hand, involved no principle that
had evil consequences. It thus appeared that common sense had
allowed itself to be taken in by a specious maxim, and that, when
once this maxim was rejected, all went well.

"The maxim in question is, that if one collection is part of
another, the one which is a part has fewer terms than the one of
which it is a part. This maxim is true of finite numbers. For ex-
ample, Englishmen are only some among Europeans, and there are
fewer Englishmen than Europeans. But when we come to infinite
numbers, this is no longer true. This breakdown of the maxim
gives us the precise definition of infinity. A collection of terms is
infinite when it contains as parts other collections which have just
as many terms as it has. If you can take away some of the terms
of a collection, without diminishing the number of terms, then there
are an infinite number of terms in the collection."

I am somehow not satisfied with this definition ; nor am
I more enlightened through the example adduced for the
sake of explanation (p. 93) :

"For example, there are just as many even numbers as there
are numbers altogether, since every number can be doubled. This
may be seen by putting odd and even numbers together in one row,
and even numbers alone in a row below:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ad infinitum.

2, 4, 6, 8, 10, ad infinitum.

There are obviously just as many numbers in the row below as in
the row above, because there is one below for each one above. This
property, which was formerly thought to be a contradiction, is now
transformed into a harmless definition of infinity, and shows, in
the above case, that the number of finite numbers is infinite."

These several views of Professor Russell on the infini-
tesimal and the infinite do not seem to me quite consistent.
But we shall hear from him again. He claims that there is
a greatest infinite number while Cantor has offered a proof
that there is none. Professor Russell says (p. 95) :

"There is a greatest of all infinite numbers, which is the num-
ber of things altogether, of every sort and kind. It is obvious that

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 63

there cannot be a greater number than this, because, if everything
has been taken, there is nothing left to add. Cantor has a proof
that there is no greatest number, and if this proof were valid, the
contradictions of infinity would reappear in a sublimated form. But
in this one point, the master has been guilty of a very subtle fallacy,
which I hope to explain in some future work."

I believe that most mathematicians will side with Can-
tor. We claim that "the number of things altogether of
every sort and kind," is not and can never be "the greatest
of all infinite numbers." For suppose we would count all
things of every sort and kind, and we had accomplished
the task, we could add to it one or two or a few thousand
units, we could multiply it with itself and so ad infinitum.

So far as I understand the nature of number there can
no more be a highest number than there can be an end to
space and time.

PROFESSOR BERTRAND RUSSELL'S CRITICISM.

Professor Russell's love of paradox renders his article
interesting, but while it makes the reading of it pleasant,
I am aware that it sometimes obscures the meaning. Hav-
ing given it a careful and repeated perusal I am not sure
that I have always rightly interpreted his humor. His
censure of Euclid may be of this kind. We may agree
better than it seemed to me at the first reading.

The problems concerning the foundations of geometry
and of mathematics in general are by no means so defi-
nitely settled that one solution may be said to have acquired
the consensus of the competent, and for this reason I feel
that a little mutual charity is quite commendable. I have
found it wanting mainly in those circles which represent
the two extremes, the old-fashioned Euclideans and the
new-fangled non-Euclideans ; they scorn and condemn all
who look at the problem through some other spectacles
than their own. But I am glad to notice that Professor

O4 THE MONIST.

Russell is not one of these. He can review considerately
and kindly the work of one who differs from him on a
subject to which he himself has given a great deal of atten-
tion. Therefore I here express publicly my recognition of
the gentlemanly tone of Professor Russell's review, and
having monopolized the floor myself in criticising him, I
deem it but just to let him have his turn.

In the Mathematical Gazette, Vol. V, No. 80 (June-
July, 1909), pp. 103-104, Professor Russell, speaking of
my recent work, The Foundations of Mathematics, says :

"This book is a more or less popular exposition of a philosophy
of geometry which is, in its main outlines, derived from Kant. The
main title, if uncorrected by the sub-title, would be somewhat mis-
leading, since the foundations of arithmetic and analysis are not
discussed, but only the foundations of geometry. The author begins
by a brief account of the development of non-Euclidean geometry,
which is followed by much longer chapters "on the philosophical
basis of mathematics" and on "mathematics and metageometry."
The historical chapter, though it does not profess to give more than
a sketch, might with advantage have been enlarged by some account
of projective geometry and the projective treatment of metrics. Dr.
Carus speaks always as though non-Euclidean straight lines were
not really straight, but were merely called straight out of wilfulness.
The projective treatment shows, better than the metrical, wherein
the straight lines of non-Euclidean spaces agree with those of
Euclid, and ought therefore not to be omitted even in a mere out-
line. It would seem also that Dr. Carus regards a three-dimensional
non-Euclidean space as necessarily contained in a four-dimensional
Euclidean space, for he asks "what Riemann would call that some-
thing which lies outside of his spherical space," apparently not real-
izing that spherical space does not require anything outside it.

"The author's philosophical theory of geometry may be sum-
marized as follows. Geometry, like logic and arithmetic, is a priori
but it is not a priori in the same degree as logic and arithmetic. There
is the a priori of being and the a priori of doing, and geometry belongs
to the latter : it is derived from the contemplation of motion, and can
be constructed from the 'principles of reasoning and the privilege of
moving about.' We know a priori what are the possibilities of mo-
tion; thus, although there is nothing logically impossible about the

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 65

assumption of four dimensions, yet 'as soon as we make an. a priori
construction of the scope of our mobility, we find out the incompati-
bility of the whole scheme.' The a priori is identical with the purely
formal, which originates in our minds by abstraction; it is appli-
cable to the objective world because the materials of formal thought
are abstracted from the objective world.

"Most of the arguments in the book lead one to expect that
Euclid will be declared to be certainly alone valid as against non-
Euclidean geometry, yet this is not the conclusion drawn by the
author. He says : 'The result of our investigation is quite conserva-
tive. It re-establishes the apriority of mathematical space, yet in
doing so it justifies the method of metaphysicians in their construc-
tions of the several non-Euclidean systems. . . . The question is not,
"Is real space that of Euclid or of Riemann, of Lobatchevsky or
Bolyai?" for real space is simply the juxtaposition of things, while
our geometries are ideal schemes, mental constructions of models
for space measurement. The real question is, "Which system is the
most convenient to determine the juxtaposition of things?" ' (p. 121).
Yet a few pages later he says: 'The theorem of parallels is only a
side issue of the implications of the straight line' (p. 129). It is
not clear how these statements are reconciled, for the earlier state-
ment seems to imply that there is no 'theorem' of parallels at all.

"A few of the author's assertions are somewhat misleading.
For example, he states, as a fact not open to controversy, that
Euclid's axiom or postulate of parallels originally occurred first in
the proof of the twenty-ninth proposition, not being mentioned
either among the axioms or among the postulates (p. 2). On the
other hand, Stackel and Engel (Theorie der Parallellinien, p. 4) say
that, following Heiberg, they do not regard the postulate of parallels
as a later addition, which would seem to show that Dr. Carus's
opinion is at least open to question. Again he says (p. 84) : "While
in spherical space several shortest lines are possible, in pseudo-
spherical space we can draw one shortest line only.' As regards
spherical space, the more exact statement is that in general only one
shortest line can be drawn between two given points, but when the
two points are antipodes, an infinite number of shortest lines can
be drawn between them.

"The book concludes with an epilogue, in which the existence
and attributes of the Deity are deduced from the nature of mathe-
matical truth."

66 THE MONIST.

With reference to Professor Russell's several com-
ments I will make these statements:

(1) The title of my book read originally "The Foun-
dation of Geometry," but since this designation had been
forestalled by Professor Hilbert's book I changed it to
"The Foundations of Mathematics" with the subtitle "A
Contribution to the Philosophy of Geometry," to make up
by it for what may be misleading in the main title.

(2) Though I will grant that a discussion of projective
geometry might be added to advantage in an exposition
of non-Euclidean geometry, I doubt whether it will help
us much in laying the foundation of geometry. I am in-
clined to think that it might complicate the problem and
confound the issue.

(3) I am indeed of the opinion that the use of the term
"straight line" had better be limited to the straight line
of Euclidean space and that its analogies in other spaces
should be named "straightest lines" or be designated by
any other term that might be deemed appropriate.

(4) I conceive every kind of space conception as inde-
pendent and grant that none of them ought to be thought
of as being constructed in Euclidean space. But if space
is a scope of motion, I can not think of a space that is lim-
ited. Spherical space ought to be conceived as possessed
of a spherical drift, but for that it ought to be infinite. If
it is not infinite, I would ask the question, what is outside ?
In my opinion we can not get rid of infinitude. The straight-
est lines in spherical space would not be infinite. They
would be merely boundless. Outside of every boundless
spherical line we must be able to construct other lines or
spherical surfaces and thus spherical space would be as
infinite as Euclidean space. I may be wrong but I am
willing to learn.

(5) The passage on page 84 is an obvious mistake.
When I wrote it I had in mind the Mercator projection

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 6/

of the globe where both the meridians and the parallels
assume the same straightness as the straight lines of Eu-
clidean space. The parallels (so called by geographers)
are not shortest lines, but if the parallels on the globe, be-
cause they represent straight lines in the Mercator projec-
tion, were called straightest lines, we could make them
enclose a space with shortest lines on the sphere, or with
the parallels of another equatorial system. Of course not
being truly shortest lines, the statement is a mistake and
I am much obliged to Professor Russell for having called
my attention to it.

PARALLELISM AND INFINITY. A COMMENT ON MR. FRANCIS
C RUSSELL'S THEOREM.

Mr. Francis C. Russell, an American namesake of Pro-
fessor Bertrand Russell, of Cambridge, England, stands
up so doughtily for Euclid that he has excited the wrath
of non-Euclideans. In his retort courteous to the stric-
tures of his critics he proposes a theorem which would
upset Lobatchevsky and Bolyai, if the right angle were
and remained the same in non-Euclidean space as in plane
geometry. But this is exactly the crux. We need more
rigidity in the use of terms.

Our geometricians, Euclid as well as the non-Euclid-
eans, have not always denned with sufficient precision all
the names and notions which they introduce. A right angle
according to my conception of geometrical notions belongs
to the important class of boundary conceptions which on
account of their uniqueness become standards of measure-
ment.

The straight line (corresponding to a crease in a sheet
of paper folded upon itself) halves the plane, while the
right angle (corresponding to the folded sheet of paper
again folded upon itself) represents the halved half of
the plane. There are innumerable curves, buf only one

68 THE MONIST.

straight line; and there are innumerable acute and in-
numerable obtuse angles, but only one right angle. Ac-
cordingly we may define the right angle as the angle which
represents one-quarter of the entire sweep of direction
round a common center. The right angle on a sphere is
smaller than in plane geometry ; it increases and decreases
with the length of the radius and becomes approximately
equal to the plane right angle only when the radius be-
comes infinitely great.

Mr. Russell proves in his theorem that the right angle
remains a right angle, but the Russell theorem holds good
only for Euclidean space. The right angles in other spaces
follow the law of their spaces.

In the same way the term parallel has another sense
in plane than in projective geometry. We are told that
"lines which meet at infinity are called parallel," but if
two lines are truly parallel will they not remain parallel
even in infinity ? We may freely grant that they will meet
at infinity, but it would be better not to introduce this fea-
ture in the definition.

The cause of much trouble must be sought in the use
of Euclidean terms in a non-Euclidean sense. By a straight
line mathematicians formerly understood the straight line
in the Euclidean plane, and if we now become acquainted
with other lines called straight because they somehow
correspond to the straight line of the Euclidean plane, the
layman who is only superficially acquainted with the new
geometry is naturally puzzled. It is therefore advisable
to call the non-Euclidean straight line a "straightest line,"
or to give it some other suitable name so as to distinguish
it from the straight line in the plane.

The same is true of parallels. So far as my linguistic
feeling is concerned I cannot overcome the original mean-
ing of the etymology of parallel. Parallel lines are to
me lines which remain the same distance apart; thus rail-

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 69

road tracks, whether straight or curved, are parallel; and
since this running side by side is the original sense of the
word, they deserve to be so called. The geographer too
uses the word parallel in its etymological meaning. If
straight lines are parallel (i. e., keep at the same distance)
they do not meet even in infinity, — although I will grant
anything for infinity.

Infinity is the land of mathematical hocus pocus.
There Zero the magician is king. When Zero divides any
number he changes it without regard to its magnitude
into the infinitely small; and inversely, when divided by
any number he begets the infinitely great. In this domain
the circumference of the circle becomes a straight line,
and then the circle can be squared. Here all ranks are
abolished, for Zero reduces everything to the same level
one way or another. Happy is the kingdom where Zero
rules !

I do not say that the notion of infinity should be ban-
ished; I only call attention to its exceptional nature, and
this so far as I can see, is due to the part which zero plays
in it, and we must never forget that like the irrational it
represents a function which possesses a definite character
but can never be executed to the finish. If we bear in mind
the imaginary nature of these functions, their oddities
will not disturb us, but if we misunderstand their origin
and significance we are confronted by impossibilities.

Since in infinity all is reduced to a democratic same-
ness the points on two parallel lines coincide when they
lie at infinity. And the same is true of planes. Suppose
we lay down a plane on the absolutely smooth surface of
the ocean. It would be tangential to the earth, and the
entire range of points at infinity would lie on a line which
we will call its infinity-horizon. It is the circumference
of .a circle, all the diameters of which are infinite straight
lines. Now consider that just as two parallel lines cut each

7O THE MONIST.

other at infinity, so two parallel planes cut each other in
a line at infinity, and we must accept the conclusion that
all the infinite number of parallel planes of the entire sys-
tem of all possible parallel planes upward to an infinite
distance and downward to an infinite distance meet at an
infinite distance in one line. All their infinity-horizons
coincide. Another such a system of planes set at right
angles on the horizontal level would behave in the same
way. All the perpendicular planes meet in a line which
we may call their infinity- meridian. The infinity-meridian
is a line which at infinity passes through all the horizontal
planes at the point where it cuts their infinity-horizon.

Here the point at infinity is a line and the line is a point.

The infinity-meridian of all the infinite number of per-
pendicular planes cuts the infinity-horizon of every single
plane of the infinite number of horizontal planes, and there
are no points in the infinity-meridian which do not cut
some of the horizontal planes at infinity. But since all
the horizontal planes have only one infinity-horizon, the
range of points of the infinity-meridian all lie in the very
same point of the infinity-horizon. In other words, the
infinity-meridian is one point on the infinity-horizon, and
with this point the entire range of its other points will be
found to coincide. Thus this line (the infinity-meridian)
shrinks into one point and nothing of the infinite extent
of the line lies outside this point. Inversely the infinity-
horizon is a mere point on the infinity-meridian.

The mathematician may well turn mystic when he
moves in infinitudes.

KANTISM AND SPACE.

In a recent number of The Mathematics Teacher, Prof.
E. D. Roe, Jr., publishes an article under the title "Some
Thoughts on Space." He is a Kantian who maintains
that "it does not seem that Kant's fundamental principle

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 7!

that time and space in general are necessary forms of in-
tuition is overthrown." He says (p. 35) :

"The simplest hypothesis is not that a handing over to a blank,
which is unintelligible, took place, but that reason by its own spon-
taneity, at least, acted according to the laws of its own activity, and

applied its forms and categories to the matter of experience

If the mind is not constituted so to act space will not result no
matter how much experience is had. A cow has the same empirical
occasions, but does any one imagine that mathematical space is in
a cow's mind, or ever will be, or that it could be revealed to or
handed over to the cow, or by any instruction be conveyed to or
gotten into the cow's consciousness? If experience could cause
its genesis it would be there, for a cow has as much experience as
we, doubtless more, because the cow has nothing but experience
and all of it in time and space."

Professor Roe differs from Kant in one point. He says

(P. 36) :

"Kant denied their objective reality. But he should not have
done so as by his theory he did not know what was external to the
mind. He should have neither denied nor asserted this."

I will not enter here into a discussion of either Kant's
or Mr. Roe's doctrine of space. I will only quote what
Mr. Roe says of my position:

"The preceding conclusion was reached independently. My
attention has since been called to the book of Dr. Cams, The Foun-
dations of Geometry, Chicago, The Open Court Publishing Co.,
1908. It is a great pleasure to recognize in him a friend and not
an antagonist. The results here reached seem to agree with those
of Dr. Carus, though the method and standpoint are a little dif-
ferent."

What Kant calls "the empirical occasions" are the
single and innumerable experiences we have in life. They
are the facts from which we derive our general idea of
motion. This general idea of motion is an abstraction.
It is not real motion, but the thought of motion. All con-
sideration of energy is omitted from it, it is what Kant
would call "pure motion," and the a priori constructions

72 THE MONIST.

of it, such as lines, angles, triangles, etc., have nothing to
do directly with any empirical occasions. The cow can not
think in abstractions, and this is the reason why a cow
knows nothing of mathematical space.

Mr. Roe objects to the term "abstraction," because it
"conveys the idea of unreality." First I would answer
that there is no harm in this, for the whole of mathematics
is an ideal construction, and it prospers well in the atmos-
phere of unreality — unreality in the sense that it does not
consist of concrete material objects. But secondly I would
add that abstractions describe features of real things, and
though abstractions as such are not concrete they represent
qualities which are real.

Mr. Roe introduces the word "spontaneity" to serve
in the place of abstraction, but we are little helped thereby.
Spontaneity means self-motion, and it is to be feared that
it will involve us into questions as to the nature of mental
activity. It is certainly not a simpler conception than
pure motion; and actual motion of some kind is absolutely
needed in order to give us the abstract notion of either
motion or spontaneity. Professor Roe suggests:

"Why might not one lie perfectly still with eyes closed and
receive tactile sensations on different parts of his body and some
notion of here and there be called out without the necessity of
subjective motion?"

If the notions of "here and there" could originate under
these conditions they would be the product of referring to
tactile impressions "here" and other impressions, "there."
A normal man would use his hand to localize sensations.
We do not know which tooth hurts us until we touch the
sore spot, but suppose the localization were roughly done
internally, we could accomplish it only by allowing our
attention to move about from the place of one sensation
to that of another. Motion is indispensable for any space-
construction.

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 73

I will abstain from discussing other points and will
only say that such words as "faculty," which Mr. Roe
introduces, had better be avoided.

Professor Bertrand Russell makes the statement that
I have derived my philosophy of geometry in its main out-
lines from Kant, but that is true in a certain sense only.
I have started from Kant and retain much of his terminol-
ogy, but in the most essential points I have come to con-
clusions diametrically opposed to his.6 I might as well
consider myself a disciple of Grassmann, although I did
not become acquainted with his extension theory until later
in life; but he was my teacher in mathematics, and I may
unconsciously have imbibed from him many notions which
like fertile seeds grew up in my mind and are now inex-
tricably intertwined with my own thoughts.

The statement is often made that our mathematical
conceptions depend upon our senses. If we had different
eyes or other organs of sense, it is claimed, we would have
a different notion concerning space. But this is true only
so far as our physiological space-conception is concerned,
and even there the modification would be slight. It is
difficult to prognosticate what space-notions we would have
if we were endowed with an electric sense, but it stands to
reason that even the perception of electric shocks or the
ability to perceive a discharge of electric shocks upon our
surroundings would change nothing in our notion of space,
for it would have to be interpreted ultimately with the
assistance of the sense of touch, which is and will remain
the foundation of all sense-perception. I am convinced
that the ability to move with great rapidity, which would
be acquired by the faculty of flight, would modify our
space-conception more than the possession of electric or

* For details see my discussion of Kant's doctrines in my little book Kanfs
Prolegomena.

74 THE MONIST.

any other additional sense-organs. After all, our notion
of space is ultimately based on the self-observation of our
own motion. Without motion no space-conception.

Physiological space is dependent to a great extent on
our physiological constitution, and the latter again depends
upon the conditions in which we live. The feelings "up-
ward" and "downward" are decidedly different, being
subject to the factor of gravitation; and mathematically
congruent figures in different positions appear different
to us on account of the distinction we make between up-
ward and downward, high and low, right and left.6

Mathematical space differs from physiological space
in being of a more abstract nature. For its construction
we need the idea of pure motion alone, which is treated
according to the rules of consistency, analogous to pure
logic. Accordingly pure mathematics does not depend
upon the senses but is the product of the mind. If rational
beings, differing from ourselves, have developed on other
planets, they might have different notions of physiological
space than we have, but they would have the same logic,
the same arithmetic, the same geometry, and all the com-
plications derived therefrom.

Helmholtz once pointed out that rational beings who
were moving on a sphere would develop a spherical geom-
etry; but, strange to say, he at the same time overlooked
the fact that man is actually living on a sphere, and yet
our geometry, as it developed in history, is plane and not
spherical. We shall scarcely be mistaken when we say that
were we to visit other planets we should nowhere find a
race of rational beings who developed either the geometry
of Lobatchevsky, or Bolyai, or any other non-Euclidean
system, before they would discover that plane geometry
was also possible. The non-Euclidean geometries prove

* For details see Mach's investigations on "Physiological as Distinguished
from Geometrical Space," in his excellent little book Space and Geometry
(Chicago: Open Court Pub. Co., 19x16).

LOGICAL AND MATHEMATICAL THOUGHT. 75

that mathematical concepts of any kind are a priori in
Kant's sense, which means that they are purely mental
constructions. The invention of non-Euclidean systems
is not useless, for they enable us to generalize our space-
conception and subsume geometrical propositions under
larger conceptions of different or higher manifoldnesses.
We are not able to visualize some of the non-Euclidean
spaces, which means we cannot form definite sense-percep-
tions of them; but we can think them and establish their
several laws in abstract formulas. This generalization
is a gain because it enables us better to understand the
nature of mathematics in general as well as in its particu-
lar propositions. However, metageometricians go too far
and misunderstand the significance of non-Euclidean ge-
ometries, if they treat mathematical space-conceptions as
actualities and expect the rival claims of Euclidean and
non- Euclidean systems to be decided before the tribunal of
the a posteriori, i. e., of experience.

CONCLUSION.

Having laid the foundation of geometry without re-
sorting to axioms, merely through the function of pure
motion, the latter being ultimately derived from experience
through abstraction, by omitting everything particular,
I feel confident that I have furnished a conception which
satisfies all demands and will be serviceable for all practical
purposes. I avoid the mysticism which necessarily results
from other interpretations. I may have overlooked appli-
cations of importance but I feel confident that all difficul-
ties can be overcome, and that in the main my solution is
on the right track.

Dixi et salvavi animam meam.

EDITOR.

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS.1

TO foresee the future of mathematics, the true method
is to study its history and its present state.

Is this not for us mathematicians in a way a profes-
sional procedure? We are accustomed to extrapolate,
which is a means of deducing the future from the past
and present, and as we well know what this amounts to,
we run no risk of deceiving ourselves about the range of
the results it gives us.

We have had hitherto prophets of evil. They blithely
reiterate that all problems capable of solution have already
been solved, and that nothing is left but gleaning. Hap-
pily the case of the past reassures us. Often it was thought
all problems were solved, or at least an inventory was
made of all admitting solution. And then the sense of the
word solution enlarged, the insoluble problems became
the most interesting of all, and others unforeseen presented
themselves. For the Greeks a good solution was one em-
ploying only ruler and compasses; then it became one ob-
tained by the extraction of roots, then one using only al-
gebraic or logarithmic functions. The pessimists thus
found themselves always outflanked, always forced to re-
treat, so that at present I think there are no more.

My intention therefore is not to combat them, as they
are dead; we well know that mathematics will continue
to develop, but the question is how, in what direction?

1 Translated from the French by George Bruce Halsted.

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 77

You will answer, "in every direction," and that is partly
true ; but if it were wholly true it would be a little appalling.
Our riches would soon become encumbering, and their
accumulation would produce a medley as impenetrable as
the unknown truth was for the ignorant.

The historian, the physicist even, must make a choice
among facts; the head of the scientist, which is only a
corner of the universe, could never contain the universe
entire ; so that among the innumerable facts nature offers,
some will be passed by, others retained.

Just so, a fortiori, in mathematics; no more can the
geometer hold fast pell-mell all the facts presenting them-
selves to him; all the more because he it is, almost I had
said his caprice, that creates these facts. He constructs
a wholly new combination by putting together its elements ;
nature does not in general give it to him ready made.

Doubtless it sometimes happens that the mathematician
undertakes a problem to satisfy a need in physics ; that the
physicist or engineer asks him to calculate a number for
a certain application. Shall it be said that we geometers
should limit ourselves to awaiting orders, and, in place
of cultivating our science for our own delectation, try only
to accommodate ourselves to the wants of our patrons?
If mathematics has no other object besides aiding those
who study nature, it is from these we should await orders.
Is this way of looking at it legitimate? Certainly not;
if we had not cultivated the exact sciences for themselves,
we would not have created mathematics the instrument,
and the day the call came from the physicist, we would
have been helpless.

Nor do the physicists wait to study a phenomenon until
some urgent need of material life has made it a necessity
for them; and they are right. If the scientists of the
eighteenth century had neglected electricity as being in
their eyes only a curiosity without practical interest, we

78 THE MONIST.

should have had in the twentieth century neither teleg-
raphy, nor electro-chemistry, nor electro-technics. The
physicists, compelled to choose, are therefore not guided
in their choice solely by utility. How then do they choose
between the facts of nature? We have explained it in a
previous article:2 the facts which interest them are those
capable of leading to the discovery of a law, and so they
are analogous to many other facts which do not seem to
us isolated, but closely grouped with others. The isolated
fact attracts all eyes, those of the layman as well as of the
scientist. But what the genuine physicist alone knows
how to see, is the bond which unites many facts whose
analogy is profound but hidden. The story of Newton's
apple is probably not true, but it is symbolic; let us speak
of it then as if it were true. Well then, we must believe
that before Newton plenty of men had seen apples fall;
not one knew how to conclude anything therefrom. Facts
would be sterile were there not minds capable of choosing
among them, discerning those behind which something
was hidden, and of recognizing what is hiding, minds
which under the crude fact perceive the soul of the fact.

We find just the same thing in mathematics. From the
varied elements at our disposal we can get millions of dif-
ferent combinations; but one of these combinations, in so
far as it is isolated, is absolutely void of value. Often we
have taken great pains to construct it, but it serves no
purpose, if not perhaps to furnish a task in secondary edu-
cation. Quite otherwise will it be when this combination
shall find place in a class of analogous combinations and
we shall have noticed this analogy. We are no longer in
the presence of a fact but of a law. And upon that day
the real discoverer will not be the workman who shall
have patiently built up certain of these combinations; it
will be he who brings to light their kinship. The first will

* See "The Choice of Facts," The Monist, April, 1909.

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 79

have seen merely the crude fact, only the other will have
perceived the soul of the fact. Often to fix this kinship it
suffices him to make a new word, and this word is creative.
The history of science furnishes us a crowd of examples
familiar to all.

The celebrated Vienna philosopher Mach has said that
the role of science is to produce economy of thought, just
as machines produce economy of effort. And that is very
true. The savage reckons on his fingers or by heaping
pebbles. In teaching children the multiplication table we
spare them later innumerable pebble bunchings. Some
one has already found out with pebbles or otherwise, that
6 times 7 is 42 and has had the idea of noting the result,
and so we need not do it over again. He did not waste
his time even if he reckoned for pleasure: his operation
took him only two minutes ; it would have taken in all two
milliards if a milliard men had had to do it over after him.

The importance of a fact then is measured by its yield,
that is to say, by the amount of thought it permits us to
spare.

In physics the facts of great yield are those entering
into a very general law, since from it they enable us to
foresee a great number of others, and just so it is in mathe-
matics. Suppose I have undertaken a complicated calcu-
lation and laboriously reached a result : I shall not be com-
pensated for my trouble if thereby I have not become
capable of foreseeing the results of other analogous calcu-
lations and guiding them with a certainty that avoids the
gropings to which one must be resigned in a first attempt.
On the other hand I shall not have wasted my time if these
gropings themselves have ended by revealing to me the
profound analogy of the problem just treated with a much
more extended class of other problems ; if they have shown
me at once the resemblances and differences of these, if in
a word they have made me perceive the possibility of a

8O THE MONIST.

generalization. Then it is not a new result I have won, it
is a new power.

The simple example that comes first to mind is that
of an algebraic formula which gives us the solutiqn of a
type of numeric problems when finally we replace the letters
by numbers. Thanks to it a single algebraic calculation
saves us the pains of ceaselessly beginning over again new
numeric calculations. But this is only a crude example;
we all know there are analogies inexpressible by a formula
and all the more precious.

A new result is of value, if at all, when in unifying
elements long known but hitherto separate and seeming
strangers one to another, it suddenly introduces order
where apparently disorder reigned. It then permits us
to see at a glance each of these elements and its place in the
assemblage. This new fact is not merely precious by itself,
but it alone gives value to al) the old facts it combines.
Our mind is weak as are the senses ; it would lose itself in
the world's complexity were this complexity not harmo-
nious; like a near-sighted person it would see only the
details and would be forced to forget each of these details
before examining the following, since it would be incapable
of embracing all. The only facts worthy our attention are
those which introduce order into this complexity and so
make it accessible.

Mathematicians attach great importance to the ele-
gance of their methods and their results. This is not pure
dilettantism. What is it indeed that gives us the feeling
of elegance in a solution, in a demonstration? It is the
harmony of the diverse parts, their symmetry, their happy
balance; in a word it is all that introduces order, all that
gives unity, that permits us to see clearly and to compre-
hend at once both the ensemble and the details. But this
is exactly what yields great results; in fact the more we
see this aggregate clearly and at a single glance, the better

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 8l

we perceive its analogies with other neighboring objects,
consequently the more chances we have of divining the
possible generalizations. Elegance may produce the feel-
ing of the unforeseen by the unexpected meeting of objects
we are not accustomed to bring together ; there again it is
fruitful, since it thus unveils for us kinships before un-
recognized. It is fruitful even when it results only from
the contrast between the simplicity of the means and the
complexity of the problem set ; it makes us then think of the
reason for this contrast and very often makes us see that
chance is not the reason ; that it is to be found in some un-
expected law. In a word, the feeling of mathematical
elegance is only the satisfaction due to any adaptation of
the solution to the needs of our mind, and it is because of
this very adaptation that this solution can be for us an
instrument. Consequently this esthetic satisfaction is bound
up with the economy of thought. Again the comparison
of the Erechtheum comes to my mind, but I must not use
it too often.

It is for the same reason that, when a rather long cal-
culation has led to some simple and striking result, we
are not satisfied until we have shown that we should have
been able to foresee, if not this entire result, at least its most
characteristic traits. Why? What prevents our being
content with a calculation which has told us, it seems, all
we wished to know ? It is because, in analogous cases, the
long calculation might not again avail, and that this is not
so about the reasoning often half intuitive which would
have enabled us to foresee. This reasoning being short,
we see at a single glance all its parts, so that we imme-
diately perceive what must be changed to adapt it to all
the problems of the same nature which can occur. And
then it enables us to foresee if the solution of these prob-
lems will be simple, it shows us at least if the calculation
is worth undertaking.

82 THE MONIST.

What we have just said suffices to show how vain it
would be to seek to replace by any mechanical procedure
the free initiative of the mathematician. To obtain a re-
sult of real value, it is not enough to grind out calculations,
or to have a machine to put things in order ; it is not order
alone, it is unexpected order which is worth while. The
machine may gnaw on the crude fact, the soul of the fact
will always escape it.

Since the middle of the last century, mathematicians
are more and more desirous of attaining absolute rigor;
they are right, and this tendency will be more and more
accentuated. In mathematics rigor is not everything, but
without it there is nothing. A demonstration which is
not rigorous is nothingness. I think no one will contest
this truth. But if it were taken too literally, we should
be led to conclude that before 1820, for example, there
was no mathematics; this would be manifestly excessive;
the geometers of that time understood voluntarily what
we explain by prolix discourse. This does not mean that
they did not see it at all ; but they passed over too rapidly,
and to see it well would have necessitated taking the pains
to say it.

But is it always needful to say it so many times ; those
who were the first to emphasize exactness before all else
have given us arguments that we may try to imitate; but
if the demonstrations of the future are to be built on
this model, mathematical treatises will be very long ; and if
I fear the lengthenings, it is not solely because I deprecate
encumbering libraries, but because I fear that in being
lengthened out, our demonstrations may lose that appear-
ance of harmony whose usefulness I have just explained.

The economy of thought is what we should aim at, so
it is not enough to supply models for imitation. It is need-
ful for those after us to be able to dispense with these
models and in place of repeating an argument already

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 83

made, summarize it in a few words. And this has already
been attained at times. For instance there was a type of
reasoning found everywhere, and everywhere alike. They
were perfectly exact, but long. Then all at once the phrase
"uniformity of convergence" was hit upon, and this phrase
made those arguments needless ; we were no longer called
upon to repeat them, since they could be understood. Those
who conquer difficulties then do us a double service; first
they teach us to do as they at need, but above all they enable
us as often as possible to avoid doing as they, yet without
sacrifice of exactness.

We have just seen by one example the importance of
words in mathematics, but many others could be cited.
It is hard to believe how much a well-chosen word can
economize thought, as Mach says. Perhaps I have already
said somewhere that mathematics is the art of giving the
same name to different things. It is fitting that these
things, differing in matter, may be alike in form, that they
may, so to speak, run in the same mould. When the lan-
guage has been well chosen, we are astonished to see that
all the proofs made for a certain object apply immediately
to many new objects ; there is nothing to change, not even
the words, since the names have become the same.

A well-chosen word usually suffices to do away with
the exceptions from which the rules stated in the old way
suffer; this is why we have created negative quantities,
imaginaries, points at infinity, and what not. And excep-
tions, we must not forget, are pernicious because they hide
the laws.

Well, this is one of the characteristics by which we rec-
ognize the facts which yield great results. They are those
which allow of these happy innovations of language. The
crude fact then is often of no great interest ; we may point
it out many times without having rendered great service
to science. It takes value only when a wiser thinker per-

»4 THE MONIST.

ceives the relation for which it stands, and symbolizes it
by a word.

Moreover the physicists do just the same. They have
invented the word "energy/' and this word has been pro-
digiously fruitful, because it also made the law by elim-
inating the exceptions, since it gave the same name to
things differing in matter and like in form.

Among words that have had the most fortunate in-
fluence I would select "group" and "invariant." They have
made us see the essence of many mathematical reasonings ;
they have shown us in how many cases the old mathemati-
cians considered groups without knowing it, and how, be-
lieving themselves far from one another, they suddenly
found themselves near without knowing why.

To-day we should say that they had dealt with iso-
morphic groups. We now know that in a group the matter
is of little interest, the form alone counts, and that when
we know a group we thus know all the isomorphic groups ;
and thanks to these words "group" and "isomorphism,"
which condense in a few syllables this subtile rule and
quickly make it familiar to all minds, the transition is
immediate and can be done with every economy of thought
effort. The idea of group besides attaches to that of trans-
formation. Why do we put such a value on the invention
of a new transformation ? Because from a single theorem
it enables us to get ten or twenty; it has the same value as
a zero adjoined to the right of a whole number.

This then it is which has hitherto determined the direc-
tion of mathematical advance, and just as certainly will
determine it in the future. But to this end the nature of
the problems which come up contributes equally. We can
not forget what must be our aim. In my opinion this aim
is double. Our science borders upon both philosophy and
physics, and we work for our two neighbors; so we have

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 85

always seen and shall still see mathematicians advancing
in two opposite directions.

On the one hand, mathematical science must reflect
upon itself, and that is useful since reflecting on itself is
reflecting on the human mind which has created it, all the
more because it is the very one of its creations for which
it has borrowed least from without. This is why certain
mathematical speculations are useful, such as those de-
voted to the study of the postulates, of unusual geometries,
of peculiar functions. The more these speculations diverge
from ordinary conceptions, and consequently from nature
and applications, the better they show us what the human
mind can create when it frees itself more and more from the
tyranny of the external world, so the better they let us
know it in itself.

But it is toward the other side, the side of nature that
we must direct the bulk of our army. There we meet the
physicist or the engineer, who says to us : "Please integrate
this differential equation for me ; I might need it in a week
in view of a construction which should be finished by that
time." "This equation," we answer, "does not come under
one of the integrable types ; you know there are not many."
"Yes, I know; but then what good are you?" Usually to
understand each other is enough; the engineer in reality
does not need the integral in finite terms ; he needs to know
the general look of the integral function, or he simply
wants a certain number which could readily be deduced
from this integral if it were known. Usually it is not
known, but the number can be calculated without it if we
know exactly what number the engineer needs and with
what approximation.

Formerly an equation was considered solved only when
its solution had been expressed by aid of a finite number
of known functions; but that is possible scarcely once in
a hundred times. What we always can do, or rather what

86 THE MONIST.

we should always seek to do, is to solve the problem quali-
tatively so to speak ; that is to say, seek to know the general
form of the curve which represents the unknown function.

It remains to find the quantitative solution of the prob-
lem; but if the unknown cannot be determined by a finite
calculation, it may always be represented by a convergent
infinite series which enables us to calculate it. Can that
be regarded as a true solution ? We are told that Newton
sent Leibnitz an anagram almost like this : aaaaabbbeeeeii,
etc. Leibnitz naturally understood nothing at all of it;
but we, who have the key, know that this anagram meant
translated into modern terms : "I can integrate all differen-
tial equations"; and we are tempted to say that Newton
had either great luck or strange delusions. He merely
wished to say he could form (by the method of indeter-
minate coefficients) a series of powers formally satisfying
the proposed equation.

Such a solution would not satisfy us to-day, and for
two reasons: because the convergence is too slow and be-
cause the terms follow each other without obeying any
law. On the contrary, the series ® seems to us to leave
nothing to be desired, first because it converges very
quickly (this is for the practical man who wishes to get
at a number as quickly as possible) and next because we
see at a glance the law of the terms (this is to satisfy the
esthetic need of the theorist).

But then there are no longer solved problems and others
which are not ; there are only problems more or less solved
according as they are solved by a series converging more
or less rapidly, or ruled by a law more or less harmonious.
It often happens however that an imperfect solution guides
us toward a better one. Sometimes the series converges
so slowly that the computation is impracticable and we
have only succeeded in proving the possibility of the prob-
lem.

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 87

And then the engineer finds this a mockery, and justly,
since it will not aid him to complete his construction by
the date fixed. He little cares to know if it will benefit
engineers of the twenty-second century. But as for us, we
think differently and we are sometimes happier to have
spared our grand-children a day's work than to have saved
our contemporaries an hour.

Sometimes by groping, empirically so to speak, we
reach a formula sufficiently convergent. "What more do
do you want ?" says the engineer. And yet, in spite of all,
we are not satisfied; we should have liked to foresee that
convergence. Why? Because if we had known how to
foresee it once, we would know how to foresee it another
time. We have succeeded; that is a small matter in our
eyes if we cannot validly expect to do so again.

In proportion as science develops its total, comprehen-
sion becomes more difficult ; then we seek to cut it in pieces
and to be satisfied with one of these pieces: in a word, to
specialize. If we went on in this way, it would be a griev-
ous obstacle to the progress of science. As we have said,
it is by unexpected unions between its diverse parts that
it progresses. To specialize too much would be to forbid
these drawings together. It is to be hoped that congresses
like those of Heidelberg and Rome, by putting us in touch
with one another will open for us vistas over neighboring
domains and oblige us to compare them with our own, to
range somewhat abroad from our own little village; thus
they will be the best remedy for the danger just men-
tioned.

But I have lingered too long over generalities, it is
time to enter into detail.

Let us pass in review the various special sciences which
combined make mathematics; let us see what each has
accomplished, whither it tends and what we may hope
from it. If the preceding views are correct, we should see

65 THE MONIST.

that the greatest advances in the past have happened when
two of these sciences have united, when we have become
conscious of the similarity of their form, despite the differ-
ence of their matter, when they have so modeled themselves
upon each other that each could profit by the other's con-
quests. We should at the same time foresee in combina-
tions of the same sort, the progress of the future.

ARITHMETIC.

Progress in arithmetic has been much slower than in
algebra and analysis, and it is easy to see why. The feel-
ing of continuity is a precious guide which the arithmeti-
cian lacks ; each whole number is separated from the others,
— it has, so to speak, its own individuality. Each of them
is a sort of exception and this is why general theorems
are rarer in the theory of numbers ; this is also why those
which exist are more hidden and longer elude the search-
ers.

If arithmetic is behind algebra and analysis, the best
thing for it to do is to seek to model itself upon these
sciences so as to profit by their advance. The arithmeti-
cian ought therefore to take as guide the analogies with
algebra. These analogies are numerous and if, in many
cases, they have not yet been studied sufficiently closely
to become utilizable, they at least have long been foreseen,
and even the language of the two sciences shows they have
been recognized. Thus we speak of transcendent numbers
and thus we account for the future classification of these
numbers already having as model the classification of tran-
scendent functions, and still we do not as yet very well see
how to pass from one classification to the other ; but had it
been seen, it would already have been accomplished and
would no longer be the work of the future.

The first example that conies to my mind is the theory
of congruences where is found a perfect parallelism to the

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. 89

theory of algebraic equations. Surely we shall succeed in
completing this parallelism, which must hold for instance
between the theory of algebraic curves and that of con-
gruences with two variables. And when the problems rela-
tive to congruences with several variables shall be solved,
this will be a first step toward the solution of many ques-
tions of indeterminate analysis.

ALGEBRA.

The theory of algebraic equations will still long hold
the attention of geometers; numerous and very different
are the sides whence it may be attacked.

We need not think algebra is ended because it gives
us rules to form all possible combinations; it remains to
find the interesting combinations, those which satisfy such
and such a condition. Thus will be formed a sort of in-
determinate analysis where the unknowns will no longer
be whole numbers, but polynomials. This time it is algebra
which will model itself upon arithmetic, following the anal-
ogy of the whole number to the integral polynomial with
any coefficients or to the integral polynomial with integral
coefficients.

GEOMETRY.

It looks as if geometry could contain nothing which
is not already included in algebra or analysis; that geo-
metric facts are only algebraic or analytic facts expressed
in another language. It might then be thought that after
our review there would remain nothing more for us to say
relating specially to geometry. This would be to fail to
recognize the importance of well constructed language,
not to comprehend what is added to the things themselves
by the method of expressing these things and consequently
of grouping them.

First the geometric considerations lead us to set our-

9O THE MONIST.

selves new problems ; these may be, if you choose, analytic
problems, but such as we never would have set ourselves
in connection with analysis. Analysis profits by them how-
ever, as it profits by those it has to solve to satisfy the
needs of physics.

A great advantage of geometry lies in the fact that in
it the senses can come to the aid of thought, and help find
the path to follow, and many minds prefer to put the prob-
lems of analysis into geometric form. Unhappily our senses
cannot carry us very far, and they desert us when we wish
to soar beyond the classical three dimensions. Does this
mean that, beyond the restricted domain wherein they seem
to wish to imprison us, we should rely only on pure analysis
and that all geometry of more than three dimensions is
vain and objectless ? The greatest masters of a preceding
generation would have answered "yes"; to-day we are so
familiarized with this notion that we can speak of it, even
in a university course, without arousing too much aston-
ishment.

But what good is it ? That is easy to see : First it gives
us a very convenient terminology, which expresses con-
cisely what the ordinary analytic language would say in
prolix phrases. Moreover, this language makes us call
like things by the same name and emphasize analogies it
will never again let us forget. It enables us therefore
still to find our way in this space which is too big for us
and which we cannot see, always recalling visible space
which is only an imperfect image of it doubtless, but which
is nevertheless an image. Here again, as in all the pre-
ceding examples, it is analogy with the simple which en-
ables us to comprehend the complex.

This geometry of more than three dimensions is not a
simple analytic geometry ; it is not purely quantitative, but
qualitative also, and it is in this respect above all that it
becomes interesting. There is a science called Analysis

THE FUTURE OF MATHEMATICS. QI

Situs and which has for its object the study of the posi-
tional relations of the different elements of a figure, apart
from their sizes. This geometry is purely qualitative; its
theorems would remain true if the figures, instead of being
exact, were roughly imitated by a child. We may also
make an Analysis Situs of more than three dimensions.
The importance of Analysis Situs is enormous and cannot
be too much emphasized; the advantage obtained from it
by Riemann, one of its chief creators, would suffice to prove
this. We must achieve its complete construction in the
higher spaces; then we shall have an instrument which
will enable us really to see in hyperspace and supplement
our senses.

The problems of Analysis Situs would perhaps not have
suggested themselves if the analytic language alone had
been spoken; or rather, I am mistaken, they would have
occurred surely, since their solution is essential to a crowd
of questions in analysis, but they would have come singly,
one after another, and without our being able to perceive
their common bond.

CANTORISM.

I have spoken above of our need to go back continually
to the first principles of our science, and of the advantage
of this for the study of the human mind. This need has
inspired two endeavors which have taken a very prominent
place in the most recent annals of mathematics. The first
is Cantorism which has rendered our science such con-
spicuous service. Cantor introduced into science a new
way of considering mathematical infinity. One of the char-
acteristic traits of Cantorism is that in place of going up
to the general by building up constructions more and more
Complicated and defining by construction, it starts from
the genus supremum and defines only, as the scholastics
would have said, per genus proximum et differentiam spe-

92 THE MONIST.

cificam. Thence comes the horror it has sometimes in-
spired in certain minds, for instance in Hermite, whose
favorite idea was to compare the mathematical to the
natural sciences. With most of us these prejudices have
been dissipated, but it has come to pass that we have en-
countered certain paradoxes, certain apparent contradic-
tions that would have delighted Zeno the Eleatic and the
school of Megara. And then each must seek the remedy.
For my part, I think, and I am not the only one, that the
important thing is never to introduce entities not com-
pletely definable in a finite number of words. Whatever
be the cure adopted, we may promise ourselves the joy of
the doctor called in to follow a beautiful pathologic case.

THE INVESTIGATION OF THE POSTULATES.

On the other hand, efforts have been made to enumerate
the axioms and postulates, more or less hidden, which
serve as foundation to the different theories of mathemat-
ics. Professor Hilbert has obtained the most brilliant re-
sults. It seems at first that this domain would be very
restricted and there would be nothing more to do when
the inventory should be ended, which could not take long.
But when we shall have enumerated all, there will be
many ways of classifying all ; a good librarian always finds
something to do, and each new classification will be in-
structive for the philosopher.

Here I end this review which I could not dream of
making complete. I think these examples will suffice to
show by what mechanism the mathematical sciences have
made their progress in the past and in what direction they
must advance in the future.

H. POINCARE.

PARIS, FRANCE.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS AND THE PRIN-
CIPLES OF MATHEMATICS.

PART I.

One result of Georg Cantor's discovery of the transfinite car-
dinal and ordinal numbers has been the development of more satis-
factory views on the principles of mathematics. To this end, also,
the symbolic logic of Peano, Frege, and Russell1 contributed by
enabling one, for the first time, to reach precision in such subjects
as the relation of logic to mathematics, and the meaning of "defi-
nition" and "existence."

In this first part, I give an account of these things, and, in the
second part, I will review the modifications in logic and in our views
of the principles of mathematics which progress in the theory of
aggregates has necessitated. I hope to show that, just as we have
been forced, especially during the nineteenth century, to a more
rigorous foundation of the methods and results of mathematical
analysis, so we are forced to logical investigations by that develop-
ment of mathematics to which I have just referred.

In this article I wish to emphasize an aspect in the development
of views on the principles of mathematics other than that of the
gradual rapprochement of mathematics and logic and their final
reconciliation owing to the good offices of the logic of relations as
promulgated by De Morgan, C. S. Peirce, Schroder, Dedekind,
Frege, Peano, and Russell. I wish to point out the service which
the theory of transfinite numbers has done first, in drawing atten-

1This symbolic logic is a great advance on the older symbolic logic, of
which Schroder has given an excellent account (Porlesungen uber die Algebra
der Logik, 3 volumes, Leipsic, 1890 and subsequent years; part of the third
volume is not yet published).

94 THE MONIST.

•

tion to what are known as "the contradictions of the theory of
aggregates," and hence to the necessity for a remoulding of logic;
and, secondly, in clearly separating cardinal and ordinal numbers
in our minds, and so making us, by analogy, more precise in our
distinctions of signless integers and positive integers, of the integer
n and the ratio nil, and so on. These distinctions have made us
give up the "principle of permanence," which formerly played such
a great part in mathematics, for we are compelled to admit that
it consists in identifying things whose difference is clearly dis-
cernible.

Thus, the advance of mathematics has brought it nearer and
nearer to logic; the extent of the validity of mathematical con-
ceptions and methods has been examined ever more closely; and it
is not difficult to see that, by this, we have attained to a more thorough
knowledge, and even, by the capacity which we have gained of
avoiding those pseudo-problems to which methods extended beyond
their domain of validity give rise, to a practical advance.

Cantor was led to see the necessity for introducing certain
definitely infinite numbers by his mathematical researches on in-
finite aggregates of points situated on a finite line (using a geo-
metrical terminology for conceptions which are, in reality, purely
arithmetical) ; but, logically, the theory is independent of this origin,
and here2 I will give the independent grounds on which, in the
Grundlagen, Cantor made the introduction of these numbers rest.

Among the finite integers i, 2, ..., v, ... there is no
greatest, but, although it would be contradictory to speak of a
greatest finite integer ft (for there is always a greater one /a+i),
there is no contradiction3 involved in introducing a new, non-finite
number (to), which is defined as the first number that follows all
the numbers i, 2, . . ., v, ... (in their order of magnitude). The

"A very full historical account by me appeared in the Archiv der Math.
*nd Phys. for 1906 and 1909, and the rest will appear shortly.

* This is the point which will be found to require for its adequate discus-
sion, all the resources of logic (see below).

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. 95

interest that attaches to the introduction of a series of such "trans-
finite" numbers, the first ones of which Cantor has denoted :

<a, w-(-I, w-j-2, ..., ti)-\-V, ... oj.2, <i).2-|-I, ••• <i>-V, . ..<D2,...
o>", ...o>«, ...o)«", ..., ..., (N)

v being any finite integer, is, of course, to be seen from the history
of those mathematical questions which necessitated the introduction
of these numbers ;4 but here we are only concerned with the question
whether the conception of such numbers is logically possible, that is
to say, leads to no contradiction.5 That Cantor, to most intents and
purposes, showed this by his above introduction and subsequent
definition of o>, is true, and, further, he successfully classified and
answered the objections made by philosophers and mathematicians,
from the time of Aristotle, against the actual (or completed, as dis-
tinguished from the "potential" or "becoming") infinite.6 A char-
acteristic and illuminating example of this criticism was given d
propos of Diihring's arguments against the actual infinite (Eigent-
Hch-Unendlich) ? These arguments can, said Cantor, be reduced,
either to the statement that a definite finite number, however large,
can never be infinite (a statement which is a truism) or that a var-
iable unlimitedly great finite number can not be thought of with the
predicate of definiteness, and hence also not with the predicate of
being (which again immediately results from the essence of varia-
bility). To conclude, as Duhring does, the non-thinkability of defi-
nitely infinite numbers is like arguing that, because there are innu-
merable intensities of green, there can be no red.8

4 The use of transfinite numbers in important questions of mathematics
has been shown, for example, by G. H. Hardy (Proc. Land. Math. Soc. (2),
vol.1, 1904, pp. 285-290) and myself (Mess, of Math., April, 1904, pp. 166-171,
and Crelle's Journ. fiir Math., Bd. CXXVIII, 1905, pp. 169-210).

"Cantor (Grundlagen einer allgemeinen Mannichfaltigkeitslehre, Leipsic,
1883, pp. 18-20), maintained the thesis that the formation of concepts in math-
ematics is completely free, and has only to satisfy the condition of the logical
consistency of these concepts with one another. Such concepts then have
"existence" (in mathematics). Cf. below on the question whether "freedom
from contradiction" is necessary or sufficient for the "existence" of a concept

* Grundlagen, pp. 9-18, 43-46; Zur Lehre vom Transnniten, Halle a. S.,
1890 (reprint of Cantor's articles in the Zeitschr. f. Phil. u. philos. Kritik, Bde.
LXXXVIII, XCI, and XCII, 1885-1887).

T See Grundlagen, pp. 44-45.

*The arguments against the infinite in mathematics have also been dis-
cussed exhaustively by Couturat (De I'infini mathematique , Paris, 1896, pp.

96 THE MONIST.

The logically exact investigation as to the existence of numbers
defined by an infinite process (as w is by the finite numbers, or an
irrational number by the rationals) was begun by Russell, and I
return to the question in the next section.

The series of the transfinite numbers was, now, shown by
Cantor to fall into certain divisions, which he called "number-
classes"; which are characterized by the property that, if a and ft
are any numbers of the same class, all the numbers (from I on)
preceding a can be brought (in a different order, of course) into a
correspondence,9 which is one-one, with all those preceding ft; and
inversely Cantor expressed this by saying that the first class of num-
bers had the same "power" as the second, or that one, and only one,
"power" belonged to each "number-class."

Thus, in addition to the series of finite and transfinite (ordinal)
numbers, there is a series of finite and transfinite powers ; for finite
aggregates the conceptions of power and (ordinal) number appear to
coincide,10 and such an aggregate has always the same number,
however it may be arranged ; but a given infinite aggregate, though
no re-arrangement can alter its power, since this attribute is, by the
definition, independent of order, can have various (ordinal) num-
bers,— in fact, any number of a certain class, — according to the way
in which it is arranged.

But, even when an aggregate is "simply ordered" (that is to
say, when an "order" is given to the terms of an aggregate such
that, if a and b be any two terms, a either precedes or follows b in
virtue of some relation, not necessarily in order of space or time),
it need not have an ordinal number. In fact, Cantor's ordinal num-
bers only apply to certain kinds of ordered aggregates, which he
called "well-ordered," and which are characterized by the property
that any selection of terms has, in the order of the original series,
an element of lowest rank. Thus, the series

441-503) and by Russell (The Principles of Mathematics, vol. I, Cambridge,
1903, PP. 355-362).

' See below.

10 However, strictly speaking they do not coincide. The point is the same
as the one about signless integers (classes) and positive integers (relations)
referred to below.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. 97

is well-ordered, but not the series

b1} b3', . . . , a*, . . . , a2, aa,

where v is any finite number and the dots indicate that all the Ov's,
where v is finite, occur in the order shown. Accordingly, Cantor
generalized and renamed his fundamental concepts in the theory
of transfinite numbers as follows:11

"By an 'aggregate' or 'manifold' (Menge), we understand any
collection by the mind (Zusammenfassung) M of definite well-
distinguished objects m of our intuition or of our thought (which
are called the 'elements' of M) to a whole.

"Every aggregate M has a definite 'power/ which we also call
'cardinal number/

"We call 'power' (Mdchtigkeit) or 'cardinal number' of M the
general concept which, by means of our active faculty of thought,
is obtained from the aggregate M by abstracting from the nature
(Beschaffenheit) of its different elements m and from the order in
which they are given."

Cantor proved that, in order that two aggregates, M and N,
should have the same cardinal number, it is necessary and sufficient
that they should be "equivalent"12 (aquivalent) , that is to say, that
there should be a one-one correspondence between the elements m
and the elements n. The operations of addition, multiplication, and
exponentiation for cardinal numbers were then defined,13 and cer-
tain other questions of mathematical importance investigated, in-
cluding a short treatment of the finite cardinal numbers14 and the
smallest transfinite cardinal number (K0)-15 But also, what con-
cerns us intimately at present, Cantor also mentioned a series of

"Math. Ann., Bd. XLVI (1895), PP- 481-512; Bd. XLIX (1897), pp. 207-
246.

"Russell has used the word "similar" instead of "equivalent" and "like"
instead of "similar" (Cantor's ahnlich, see below) ; while Dedekind used ahn-
lich where Cantor used aquivalent. At Dr. Carus's suggestion, we follow
Cantor's terminology here.

u Math. Ann., XLVI, pp. 485-488.
M Ibid., pp. 489-492.
u Ibid., pp. 492-495-

98 THE MONIST.

cardinal numbers ascending in magnitude and such that there is no
cardinal number between two consecutive terms of the series :
Xn XT X, ••« X,, "'X,, X,. ,, ... X^ .... (A.}

0> 1> Z» > v i u>, <•»+!> > -y , , V *•/

as a subject for future investigation,16 and implied that every trans-
finite cardinal number is to be found in this series. The conception
of an "ordered aggregate" was then introduced:17

"We call an aggregate M 'simply ordered,' if a definite 'order
of precedence' (Rangordnung) rules its elements m, so that of any
two elements ml and m2 one takes the 'lower' and the other the
'higher' rank; and so that if of three elements mlf m2, and ms, m^
is lower than m2 and m2 lower than m3, ml is always lower than mz"
Such orders are order of magnitude and order of succession in time.
Evidently, we are presupposed to have the idea of such a relation
in general and it is not defined.

"Every (simply-) ordered aggregate has a definite 'ordinal
type,' by which we understand the general concept which results
from M, when we abstract from the nature of the elements m, but
retain the order of precedence among them." That two ordered
aggregates should have the same type, it is necessary and sufficient
they should be "similar" (dhnlich) ; that is to say, that there should
be a one-one correspondence such that the order of precedence of
corresponding elements is kept.

An important case of a simply-ordered aggregate is a "well-
ordered aggregate,18 which has been characterized above. The types
of well-ordered aggregates were, now, called "ordinal numbers,"
and thus we arrive at the series (N). Now, the cardinal numbers
of the various "segments"19 of this series (N) form the series (A),
which is such that there is no cardinal number which lies, in mag-
nitude, between two consecutive Alephs, and none less than any one
(for example consider Xw) which is not one of the Alephs preceding

"Ibid., pp. 495, 484-
" Ibid., pp. 496-498.
M See the article in Math. Ann., Bd. XLIX.

"The "segment" defined by the term a of a well-ordered series is the
series of all terms preceding a. Cantor used the word Abschnitt (Math. Ann..
Bd. XLIX, p. 210).

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. 99

that one in (A). Further, (A) possesses the remarkable property
of being similar to (N). The other investigations of Cantor on
ordinal numbers are of more exclusively mathematical interest.

In the question as to the existence of the various cardinal num-
bers and ordinal types defined by Cantor, there was still an oppor-
tunity left for skepticism, and one of the chief objects of Russell's
work20 was so to define the numbers as to leave no doubt about their
existence. We must, then, next give an account of that part of
modern work on symbolic logic which is necessary for the com-
prehension of this object.

Peano's logical calculus differs from the previous systems of
algebra of logic21 in one or both of the respects of being more con-
venient in symbolism and of containing more subtle distinctions
between certain fundamental ideas. Thus, in the latter respect,
Peano had the distinction, which was not possessed by Schroder22

"Cf. op. cit., pp. ix, 111-116, 277-286, 313, 321-322, 497-498.

n Although Leibniz had worked out projects of an algebra of logic and
a general symbolism, his work in this direction only began to be known
when his manuscripts began to be published by. J. E. Erdmann in 1840. The
work in this direction of Leibniz's successors — of whom the greatest was
J. H. Lambert — made little impression, and it was George Boole and Augustus
De Morgan, about the middle of the nineteenth century, who must be regarded
as the true founders of what we now know as symbolic logic. A valuable
work of an orthodox Boolian character, containing much careful historical
research, is J. Venn's Symbolic Logic, London, 1880 (2d. ed., 1894) 5 and the
most complete works on the logic of Leibniz are: B. Russell, A Critical Ex-
position of the Philosophy of Leibniz, Cambridge, 1900; and L. Couturat, La
logique de Leibniz d'apres des documents inedits, Paris, 1901, and Opuscules et
fragments inedits de Leibniz, Paris, 1903.

It must be mentioned that the introduction of "propositions containing
variables" and of implication between them was first explicitly made by H.
MacColl in 1878. Still MacColl did not observe, like Frege and Peano, that
these notions made it possible to formulate all mathematical deductions in
symbols — what was impossible with the traditional or Aristotelian logic — and
indeed, as Russell has shown, rather confused the essential difference between
these prepositional functions and propositions proper. The logic of relations
of De Morgan, Peirce, Schroder, Frege, Dedekind, Peano and Russell will be
referred to afterwards.

**Cf. Schroder, op. cit., Bd. II, 2. Abteilung, Leipsic, 1905, pp. 461, 597;
Verh. d. Math. Congr. in Zurich, Leipsic, 1898, p. 154; G. Frege, Kritische
Beleuchtung einiger Punkte in E. Schroders Vorlesungen iiber die Aleebra

book by C. Siegel was published at Leipsic in 1908 under the title: Die philo-
sophischen Prinzipien der Mathematik).

Frege's work, which began in 1879, is of a far more subtle character than

IOO THE MONIST.

or any other previous writer, between "the class (or individual)
a is a member of the class b" and "the class a is contained in the
class b" ; the former was symbolized by Peano aeb, the latter by a
different sign;23 and the latter may be defined: xia implies, for
every such x, xtb.

Again, Peano distinguished between a term (say x) of a class
and the class (tx) composed of that single term, treated the con-
ception of the "variable" at some length, and so on.

While referring for more detailed accounts of Peano's system
of writing all mathematical propositions in logical symbolism, which
implies a calculus of logic, to other works,24 we shall here notice
more particularly some points in it and in Russell's work of great
importance to us in our present subject.

* * *

When the propositions a, b, said Peano,25 contain undetermined
entities x, y, ... ,26 as they do in general, then the suffix x, y, ... at-
tached to the sign of implication between a and b makes the whole
read: "a implies b, whatever x, y, ... may be" (provided, of course,
they satisfy the conditions that may have been imposed on them
at the beginning), and if a and b contain two groups of undeter-

Peano's (cf. Russell, op. tit., pp. 500-522), and consequently far more suited
to the investigation of the principles of mathematics — for which purpose,
indeed, his ideography was invented. His symbolism, however, is so cum-
brous, that Russell, who, independently of Frege, arrived at many of Frege's
points of view, combined Frege's ideas with Peano's symbolism (slightly modi-
fied) in his most recent work (Amer. Journ. of Math., XXVIII, 1906; and
XXX, 1908).

43 Since Peano wrote bCa for "b contains a," for "a is contained in b" he
used a sign which is a deformation of an inverted C.

^See pp. 370-378 (on the symbolism of Peano and Russell) in White-
head's Memoir On Cardinal Numbers (Amer. Journ. of Math., Vol. XXIV, 1902,
pp. 367-394) ; the references to the calculus of logic in the works of Russell
and Couturat, and to Peano's logic in Russell, op. cit., pp. 26-32, and Couturat,
op. cit., pp. 5, 6, 18, 24, 27; Peano's various Formulaires and the volumes
of his Rivista di matematica; and Couturat's account of the work of Peano
and his school in the Bull, des set. math., 2e serie, t. XXV, 1901.

x Arithmetic es Principia nova methodo exposita, Turin, 1889, p. viii; No-
tations de logique mathematique, Turin, 1894, pp. 16-18, 20-22.

On the subject of the variable, propositional functions, formal implica-
tion, individual and class, see Couturat, op. cit., pp. 17, 21-23.

88 We may restrict x, y, . . . to be real or imaginary numbers, points, classes,
propositions, For example "x and y are (real or complex) numbers" im-
plies (whatever numbers x and y may be) (x+y )*= x*+ sxy+y*.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. IOI

mined entities x, y, ... and u, v, . . . , and we wish to say that u, v,
. . . are such that, whatever x, y, ... may be, a implies b, then we
write as suffixes only the entities (x, y, . . . ) with respect to which
we make the deduction. The resulting proposition is then a condition
between u, v, . , ., and is independent of x, y, ... ."

If the value of a formula does not depend on the undetermined
entity in it, just as the value of a definite integral does not depend
on the variable (x) of integration, it is not necessary to explain
the signification of x, as was done above.

If p is a proposition containing a variable x, we denote the
class of .r's which satisfy px by x*px and read it : "the x's such that
px is true." If px contains other variables u, v, ... besides x,
x*px denotes a class which is a function of u, v, . . . , but independent
of x.

All the propositions of pure mathematics are, according to
Russell,28 of the form "p implies q," where p and q are propositions
containing one or more variables, the same in the two propositions,
and neither p nor q contains any constants except logical constants.
Logical constants are all notions definable29 in terms of the follow-
ing: Implication, the relation of a term to a class of which it is a
member (e), the notion of such that, the notion of relation, and
such further notions as may be involved in the general notion of
propositions of the above form. In addition to these, mathematics
uses a notion which is not a constituent of the propositions which
it considers, namely, the notion of truth. A proposition80 is de-

17 Thus, if x is a real number (xeq), and we write x*q implies, for any
such i), ax*-\-bx-\-c=o, the proposition is "a, b, c are such that, whatever x is,
ax*-\-bx+c=o." The implication without any index (which is equivalent to
that with all the indices x, a, b, c) states the false proposition: "whatever
numbers x, a, b, c are, ax*+bx-\-c=o."

"Op. cit., p. 3; cf. Couturat's book quoted — which may be described as
a more popular exposition of Russell's work — pp. 1-6.

"For the meaning of this term, see below.

"The calculus of propositions (Russell, op. cit., pp. 13-18, Couturat, op.
cit., pp. 8-16) must precede those of classes (Russell, op. cit., pp. 18-23; Cou-
turat, op. cit., pp. 16-26) and of relations (Russell, op. ctt., pp. 23-26; Couturat,

IO2 THE MONIST.

finable as "that which implies itself,"31 and must be distinguished
clearly from what Peano (and Russell in the above statement)
called "a proposition containing a variable," and Russell, in far
preferable language, a "prepositional function."82 A proposition,
we may say, is anything that is true or that is false. An expression
such as "x is a man" is, therefore, not a proposition ; but if we give
to x any constant value whatever,83 the expression becomes a propo-
sition. This schematic form standing for any one of a whole class
of propositions is called a "prepositional function," and we may
explain, but not define, this notion as follows : $x is a prepositional
function if, for every value of x, <j>x is a proposition, determinate
when x is given. In this, x is called the variable, and we may say
that a prepositional function is, in general, true for some values
of the variable and false for others.

When we say "x is a man implies x is mortal for all values of
x" we have a genuine proposition, in which, though the letter x
appears, it is absorbed in the same kind of way as the x under the
integral sign in a definite integral, so that the result is no longer
a function of x. In this case, x is what Peano called an "apparent
variable," since the proposition does not depend upon the variable;
whereas the variable was called "real" in propositional functions.
Genuine propositions do not depend upon a variable or variables.3*

op. cit., pp. 27-34), since the principles of the calculus of propositions are used
in all reasoning.

On the calculus of classes, cf. the note on the theory of aggregates in
Couturat, op. cit., pp. 219-228.

The logic of relations, the mathematical importance of which was shown
by Dedekind's application of it (Dedekind himself rediscovered much of it
independently) and by Schroder's work, was, as Schroder rightly observed
(Verh. des ersten Math.-Congr. in Zurich, 1897, Leipsic, 1898) somewhat neg-
lected by Peano to the disadvantage of his logic. It was Russell (Rev. de Math.,
VII) who first completed Peano's logic by a logic of relations in which the
Peirce-Schroder ideas were modified so as to fit in with a logic which com-
prised more subtle distinctions than that of Schroder. Cf. Couturat, op. cit.,
pp. 27-28.

Cf also Frege, Begriffsschrift, eine der arithmetischen nachgebildete For-
melsprache des reinen Denkens, Halle a. S., 1879 (Frege's work on ideog-
raphy), pp. 15-24; Funktion und Begriff, Jena, 1891; Grundgesetze, I, 1893,
PP. 5-25-

n Russell, op. cit., p. 15.

"Op. cit., pp. 12-13, 19-20; cf. Couturat, op. cit., pp. 17-18.

" Such as "Socrates," "Plato," "the number 2."

**On the notion of the "variables" (the presence of which is marked by

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. IO3

In pure mathematics we assert what Russell88 called the formal
implication39: "$(x, y, ...) implies $(x, y, . ..), whatever values
x, y, ... may have" ; but we do not assert either <f> or \j/ of the
entities x, y, . . . ; whilst, in applied mathematics, results which
have been shown by pure mathematics to follow from some hypoth-
esis are actually asserted of some constant satisfying the hypothesis
in question. Thus terms which were variables become constant,
and a new premise is always required, namely : this particular entity
satisfies the hypothesis in question.37

The values of x "such that" $x is true form a class, and Rus-
sell38 defined a class as all the terms satisfying some prepositional
function. That some limitation was required in this statement was
recognized by Russell himself, in consequence of the contradiction
discovered by him,*89 and this limitation, which forms indeed the
kernel of our investigations, will be discussed at length hereafter.

IV.

The treatment of the meanings which can be attached to the
word "definition" by Peano40 and Burali-Forti prepared the way
for a thoroughly satisfactory theory.41

The simplest form of a definition is, in Peano's symbolism,

x=a D/.,

where x is a sign which has not, as yet, a signification, a is a
group of signs having a known signification, and the sign of
equality followed by "Df" — note that "=D/" is one sign — indi-
cates that we agree, for the sake of brevity, because the group

the occurrence of the words any or some, and may take any values) and "con-
stants" in logic, see Russell, op. cit., pp. 5-8, 89-94; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 21-
24 ; and Frege, "Was ist eine Funktion ?" Boltzmann-Festschrift, 1904, pp. 656-
666.

" Op. cit., p. 5.

**As distinguished from the material implication (op. cit., p. 14) between
genuine propositions.

" Russell, op. cit, p. 8 ; cf. Couturat, op. cit., pp. 4-5.

* Op. cit., p. 20.

* Op. cit., pp. 366-368, 101-107.

* Notations, pp. 44-51; Les definitions mothtmatiques (Bibl. du Congres
Internal, de Phil., Ill, "Logique et histoire des sciences," Paris, 1001, pp.
270-288).

"On definitions see also Frege, Grundgesetze, I, 43-52; II (1902), 60-80.

IO4 THE MONIST.

a denotes an important concept, to write the simple sign x instead
of the group a.42 Sometimes what we define is not a simple sign,
but a group of signs, between which there are new signs, or a group
of signs which have a signification separately, but such that their
aggregate has not yet a signification. Then the definition follows
an hypothesis (h) and has the form:

h implies that x=a Df*3

There are ideas, which we obtain by abstraction, which cannot
be defined under the above form.44 Let u be an object ; by abstrac-
tion we deduce a new object <f>u; we cannot form an equality:

<£w = known expression D/\,

for <f>u is an object of nature different from all those considered
hitherto. Then we define equality45 as follows:

hu>v implies : <j>u=<f>v.=.pu<v D/.,*6

where hu,v is the hypothesis on the objects « and v, and <f>u=<j>v is
the equality which we define as meaning the same thing as />„,*,, a
relation, with a known meaning, between u and 'v, which must
satisfy the three conditions of being:

42 Thus, Russell said (op. cit., p. 429) : "What distinguishes other branches
of mathematics from logic is merely complication, which usually takes the
form of an hypothesis that the variable belongs to some rather complicated
class. Such a class will usually be denoted by a single symbol; and that the
statement of the class in question is to be represented by such and such a sym-
bol is what mathematicians call a definition. That is to say, a definition is no
part of mathematics at all, and does not make any statement concerning the
entities dealt with by mathematics, but is simply and solely a statement of a
symbolic abbreviation: it is a proposition concerning symbols, not concerning
what is symbolized." As regards the philosophical meaning of "definition, '
see op. cit., pp. 15, 27, 111-112. Also (op. cit., p. 15) : "In the mathematical
sense, a new prepositional function is said to be defined when it is stated to
be equivalent to (i. e., to imply and be implied by) a prepositional function
which has either been accepted as indefinable or has been defined in terms of
indefinables." Cf. Couturat, op. cit., pp. 10, 36-37.

** For example, in the definition of ex as a power-series, the hypothesis is
that x is a (real or complex) number.

44 Peano, Notations, pp. 45-49.

45 See the fifth section.

46 Peano used dots (., :, .-., : :) to separate the parts of a proposition,
and the main implication of a proposition is always that immediately preceded
or followed by the greatest collection (in one place) of dots. Further, dots
between propositions are a sign of joint assertion or "logical multiplication"
(t> and q). Thus, in the proposition (if the letters denote propositions):
p implies q.x : implies. r or s .: implies . t, the part p to j is the hypothesis
(analyzable into an hypothesis "p implies q, and the proposition x is asserted"
and the protasis "r or s", — a "logical addition") and t is the protasis (cf.
Notations, pp. 11-13).

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS.

1. Reflexive; that is to say, <f>u=<f»u or />*,„ is true, whatever
u is;

2. Symmetrical; that is to say, <f>u=<f>v implies <t>v=z<f>u, or
pUtV implies pv<u ;

3. Transitive; that is to say, <j>u=<f>v and <f>v=<f>w imply that
<(tu=<f>w, or />„,;;, and />z, ;W imply pu<w."

Among his examples, Peano gave48 Stolz's49 definition of a
rational number. If o and b are natural numbers and b is not a

multiple of a, the expression -• has no meaning ; but we make to
correspond to the couple a, b, a new object, different from all those
we have considered hitherto, which we will denote by — , and which
we define by the relation of equality, which satisfies our three con-
ditions.

-=-. = . ad=bc D/M
a c

Again, the "upper limit of a class of rational numbers a" (/'a) was
defined51 by abstraction (b being also a class of rational numbers) :

l'a=l'b.=. "If x is any rational number ; then, if there are any
members of a greater than x, there are members of b greater than x,
and vice versa." D/.

Definitions are not, strictly speaking, necessary. Thus, each
proposition on irrational numbers (the foregoing "upper limits")
is a proposition on aggregates of rational numbers; each propo-
sition on rational numbers becomes a proposition on whole numbers ;
and so on. A definition has no need of proof, it is merely the effect
of our will to represent a group of signs by a simpler expression.
We have not, for example, to prove the existence of what we define.
Naturally, it is proper to define existent things in practice, but

" Cf. papers by Vailati and De Amicis in Riv. di Mat., I, 1891.
a Op. cit., p. 47.

a Vorlesungen iiber allgemeine Arithmetik, Bd. I, p. 43.

80 In this line, the sign = has, with Peano, three different meanings: the
first, equality as defined by abstraction; the second, equality by D/; and the
third, equality between whole numbers.

n Peano, op. cit., p. 47 ; cf. Arith. Princ., p. 15, and Formulario de Mathe-
matica, 1905, p. 105.

IO6 THE MONIST.

sometimes we define things which do not exist. Thus Euclid,62
in order to prove that the number of primes is infinite, said: Let
us put 8e = smallest common multiple of the primes; and then
proved that 8e does not exist.

We cannot define everything; to define a sign x, we must be
able to compose a sign a from known signs such that we have
x=a Df. Thus, we must know some signs already. The question,
Can the object x be defined? is not quite correctly put; we should
rather say: Can x be defined by means of the objects a, b, . . . ?, and
there is a certain amount of arbitrariness53 as to which objects we
take as ultimate, — the minimum of objects with which we can be-
gin a logic, or "primitive ideas." These ideas, said Peano,54 "must
be acquired by experience or by induction; it is impossible to ex-
plain them by deduction." The primitive ideas of a science con-
stitute the smallest dictionary which must be common to two men
who speak different languages, in order that they may be able to
understand one another on the subjects of this science.56

This determination of a primitive idea by a group of primitive
propositions or postulates concerning it, was admitted under the
name of "definitions by postulates" by Burali-Forti58 as one of the
three legitimate forms of definition in mathematics. To "define"
an object x means: "to give one or many logical relations contain-
ing x, and such that, an element y being given, it is possible to
affirm or deny the relation x=y"61 In other words, x is defined

MBook IX, prop. 20.

88 Thus, if by means of a, b, c, we can define d, and by means of a, b, d,
we can define c, we can take for primitive ideas either a, b, c, or a, b, d. See
also Russell, op. cit., p. in.

54 Op. cit., p. 50.

86 Russell called the primitive ideas "indefinables" and enumerated them,
and "logical constants" was the name he gave to all notions definable in
terms of them (op. cit., pp. 3, 4, 7-8, n ; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 37-39).

MSur les differentes methodes logiqv.es pour la definitions du nombre
riel, (Bibl. du Congres Internat. de Phil, "Logique et histoire des sciences,"
III, pp. 294-307, especially pp. 294-296).

"This means (Burali-Forti, loc. cit., pp. 292-293), that every property of
x is also one of y. Certain relations which are reflexive, symmetrical, and
transitive (like "is superposable on") have been denoted by =, but this was
only with reference to all those properties relative to our discourse. Cf. also
a preceding note on mathematical equality.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS.

when one can deduce all the properties of x from the logical rela-
tions in question. The two other kinds of definition are (i) the
"nominal definition" of x in the form x=a, which has already been
described, and (2) the "definition by abstraction" of an operation
<f> by saying to what class a it is applicable and, x being an element
of a, by establishing which are the y's of a such that <f>y=4>x. This
has also been described above.

* * *

Russell58 urged against the validity of the above process of
Peano's of using abstraction as a substitute for definition,69 the fatal
formal defect of not showing that only one object satisfies the defi-
nition. Thus, in the definition by abstraction of "powers" or "car-
dinal numbers," we consider two classes u and v which can be put
in a one-one relation60 with one another, or are equivalent. As
equivalence is a reflexive, symmetrical, and transitive relation, Peano
and common sense conclude that u and v have a common property,
and vice versa; this common property we can then define as their
cardinal number, so that the equality of the cardinal numbers of
u and v consists in the equivalence of u and v. Instead of obtaining
one common property61 of similar classes, which is the cardinal
number of the classes in question, we obtain a class of such prop-
erties, with no means of deciding how many terms this class con-
tains.62 In order to make this point clear, let us examine what is

"Op. cit., pp. 114-115.

"This process of analyzing any reflexive, symmetrical, and transitive re-
lation between the classes u and v into sameness of relation to an entity de-
noted by <fc« or 4>v to be obtained by abstraction, was called "definition by
abstraction" by Burali-Forti in his Logica Matematica, published at Milan in
1894-

**A relation is one-one when, if x and x' have the relation in question
to y, then x and x' are identical; while if x has the relation in question to y
and y, then y and y are identical. A one-one relation whose domains are u
and v was denoted by Peano by fwi> placed partly between and partly after u
and v (Formulario, 1905, p. 75).

The term "one-one" does not imply that the (as yet undefined) notion of
"the number i" is used in this definition, and such is not the case (cf. Russell,
op. cit., pp. 113, 305, and Couturat, op. cit., pp. 31-32, 47-48).

uCf. Cantor's definition by abstraction (1883) in Z«r Lehre vont Trans-
finiten, pp. 23-24.

** Couturat (op. cit., p. 48) pointed out that this class may, seemingly,
be null; "a definition by abstraction shows neither the existence nor the
uniqueness of the object denned."

IO8 THE MONIST.

meant in the present instance, by a common property. What is
meant is, that any class has to a certain entity, its number, a rela-
tion which it has to nothing else, but which all equivalent classes
(and no other entities) have to the said number. That is, there is
many-one relation wihch every class has to its number and to
nothing else. Thus, so far as the definition by abstraction can show,
any set of entities to each of which some class has a certain many-
one relation, and to one and only one of which any given class has
this relation, and which are such that all classes equivalent to a
given class have this relation to one and the same entity of the set,
appear as the set of numbers, and any entity of this set is the number
of some class. If then, there are many such sets of entities — and it
is easy to prove that there are an infinite number of them — every
class will have many numbers, and the definition wholly fails to de-
fine the number of a class. This argument is perfectly general, and
shows that definition by abstraction is never a logically valid pro-
cess.

The legitimacy of this process of Peano's requires63 an axiom,
namely that, if there is any instance of the relation in question —
a transitive, symmetrical and (within its field) reflexive one be-
tween M and v — there is such a new entity as <j>u or <f>v such that our
relation is analyzed into sameness of relation to the new term <j>u
or <f>v. As the entity to be defined should be visible, at least to
the mind's eye,6* this axiom becomes, in the logic of relations, a
proposition proved by Russell in his calculus of relations, and called
by him "the principle of abstraction."65 This principle is: "Any
symmetrical and transitive relation R, of which there is at least
one instance, can be expressed as the relative product of a many-one
relation S and its converse, so that S subsists between each of the
individuals x, y and a third term z in such a way66 that xRy is equiv-

88 Russell, op. cit., p. 220

M Ibid., p. 249.

"Russell, op. cit., pp. 166-167, "6, 305; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 33, 42-43, 48-
50; and Russell's paper: "Sur la logique des relations," Rev. de Math., VII,
No. 2, § i, Prop. 6, 2.

** An axiom virtually identical with this principle, but not stated with the
necessary precision, or not demonstrated, is, according to Russell (op. cit., p.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. KX)

alent to the two propositions: xSz and yS-sr. It is this z which is
Peano's $x or <f>yt and is the common property of x and y;67 and
all mathematical purposes of the supposed common property are
completely served when it is replaced by this z. Russell actually
constructed such a z by pointing out that the requirements were
satisfied by the class of terms having the given relation to a given
term.

Thus, if we apply the principle of abstraction to equivalent
classes, we arrive88 at a definition of the cardinal number of u as
the class of the classes similar to w.69

* * *

The "definition by postulates" also is not a definition.70 An
aggregate of postulates only determines the meaning of the unde-
fined symbols to a certain extent, for the same system of postulates
can be verified by many interpretations given to the undefined sym-
bols: a system of postulates is analogous to a system of equations
between many unknowns; if our postulates really determine our
undefined notions uniquely, a "resolution" with respect to these
unknowns results in nominal or explicit definitions. When the sys-
tem of postulates contains only one primitive idea, it is easy to
extract the explicit definition of the latter, for we need only say
that it is "such that" it verifies the system of postulates. But it

2ign), to be found in a paper by De Morgan, Comb. Phil. Trans,, vol. X, p.
345-

"The principle, then asserts "that there are such entities, if only we
know where to look for them" (Russell, op. cit., p. 249).

"Russell, op. cit., pp. 115, 304-307.

"* It then becomes a strictly demonstrable proposition that any class u has
a cardinal number. For u itself is a member of the class called the cardinal
number of u, since u is similar to itself (equivalence is a reflexive relation)
and hence the cardinal is not a null class (Russell, op. cit., p. 305; first given
in Rev. de Math., VII, p. 121).

Cf. Frege, Die Grundlagen der Arithmetik , Breslau, 1884, pp. 73-99.

Analogously, a nominal definition of ordinal types as a class of like rela-
tions was given by Russell {op. cit., pp. 241, 313; cf. Couturat, op. cit., pp. 76-
77)-

w Couturat, op. cit., pp. 40-42, 57-58; Frege, "Ueber die Grundlagen der
Geometric," Jahresber. d. deutsch. Math.-Ver., Bd. XII, 1903, pp. 319-324;
368-375). Cf. also Russell's criticism of Peano's way of defining finite in-
tegers, together with his proofs of Peano's primitive propositions in arith-
metic, in op. cit., pp. 124-128.

IIO THE MONIST.

remains to prove the existence and uniqueness of this notion, as
for every other explicit definition.

Every definition is, then, nominal;71 the "definition by abstrac-
tion" is only necessitated by an incomplete logic which does not
include a calculus of relations, while the introduction of primitive
ideas other than those of logic into arithmetic can, as Russell72 has

shown, be avoided.

* * *

Hilbert later applied the same axiomatic method to the prin-
ciples of arithmetic, and exposed his results at some length in a
lecture Ueber die Grundlagen der Logik und der Arithmetik ( Verh.
des. 3. internat. Math.-Kongresses in Heidelberg im August, 1904,
pp. 174-185, Leipsic, 1905 ; translated in The Monist, July, 1905,
Vol. XV, pp. 338-352). At the beginning of this, he announced
complacently that "to-day in researches on the foundations of ge-
ometry we are essentially agreed as to the procedures to be adopted."
If the procedure is the procedure of Hilbert, in which the essential
factor of existence of the object supposed to be defined by the
axioms is disregarded, and consequently in which one cannot be
sure that one is arguing about anything at all, this is most certainly
not the case; in America, for instance, there is the important work
on geometry of O. Veblen, who gives chains of axioms for various
geometries, but proves the existence-theorems.

Hilbert's view is that there is an essential difference between
an examination of the foundations of geometry and one of the foun-
dations of arithmetic, because, in the former case, the mutual com-
patibility of the axioms can be proved by arithmetical constructions,
while in the latter case, this is naturally impossible, and "in the
founding of arithmetic, the appeal to another basal science seems
unallowable." But (cf. on this point M. Fieri, Sur la compatibility
des axiomes de Varithmetique, Revue de metaphys. et de morale,
March, 1906, XIV, pp. 196-207) the basal science for arithmetic
can be, as Russell's whole work has shown, logic — including the

"Russell, op. cit., p. 112; Couturat, op. cit., p. 43.
n Op. tit., pp. 8-9, 497-498.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. Ill

logic of relations, and logic alone is sufficient for the definition of
all the conceptions of pure mathematics.

What is Hilbert's difficulty in the founding of arithmetic on
logic appears from his criticism of Frege — a criticism which applies
also to the earlier work of Russell. Hilbert quite correctly observes

that ''inasmuch as he (Frege), true to his plan, takes as axiom,

that a concept (an aggregate) is defined and immediately available,
provided only it be determined for every object, whether it falls
under the concept or not, and also in doing this subjects the concept
"every" to no restriction [cf. also Cantor, Math. Ann., Bd. XX,
1882, pp. 114-115], he exposes himself to just those paradoxes of
the theory of aggregates, which lie, for instance, in the concept
of the aggregate of all aggregates [cf. below], and which, it seems
to me, show that the conceptions and means of investigation of
logic, taken in the usual sense, are not adequate to the rigorous re-
quirements set up by the theory of aggregates." Hilbert's aim,
from the very outset, was to avoid such contradictions.

However, though Hilbert develops the conception of the various
finite and transfinite numbers in order, and, at each stage, restricts
the word all to apply only to those entities already introduced, and,
by this method, which he has not been the only one to adopt, never
gets to Burali-Forti's contradiction; yet he does not seem to me to
avoid Russell's contradiction, since "non-existent" means, with him,
non-entity, and consequently his "class" of the existent is "the class"
of all things.

We will not, in this short account, attempt a detailed criticism of
Hilbert's lecture ; and will merely remark that the creation by the
mind of various "thought-things" governed by certain axioms is,
even if such creation is possible, at least unnecessary, for another
way, which Frege and Russell had previously followed, is preferable
if for no other reason than that Occam's principle is observed (cf.
below). As our present object is solely the discrediting of "defini-
tions by postulates," we may merely refer, for other criticisms, to
Couturat, Rev. de metaphys. et de morale, March, 1906, XIV, pp.
234-235 ; and Fieri, ibid., p. 200.

112 THE MONIST.

When we define a class73 we must, in order to be able to reason
on this class and investigate its properties, prove that there is at least
one member of this class ; in other words, that the class is not null,
or "exists,"74 so that the conditions which define it are not logically
incompatible. Every definition must, then, be accompanied by an
existence-theorem (or postulate),75 and, if we have to speak of "the"
member of a class, we must prove that, if two individuals are mem-
bers of the class in question, they are identical.

We must now consider the notion of equality (=) in logic and
in mathematics. In mathematics the process is frequently adopted
of defining equality for, say, whole numbers,76 and then redefining
equality for other classes of numbers, such as ratios and real num-
bers. If, as is usually the case, the same sign ( — ) is used for these
different conceptions of equality, there may be confusion ; but, alto-
gether apart from this question, which merely concerns the symbols
used, there is a real question of principle involved, which makes
this redefinition of equality objectionable: the new meanings of
equality imply, in fact, a lack of thoroughness in the analysis of
these meanings, which always involve the identity (the original
meaning of equality in logic) of the "equal" objects in some respect.

The meaning of "equality" in logic is identity ; when we say
there a=b we mean that a and b are different names for the same
thing ;77 or, in formal language, every property of the thing denoted

"Couturat (op. cit., p. 39) stated that the term defined is always a class;
Russell (op. cit., pp. 63, 497) did not go as far as this, and it may be remarked
that some of the different kinds of "number" defined in analysis are relations.

'* Russell, op. cit., pp. 21, 32 ; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 25-26.

75 Cf. Russell, op. cit., pp. ix, 322; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 39-40. Russell
(op. cit., p. 497) sketched the chain of proofs that the numbers and other
classes defined in mathematics exist.

78 Thus we may define the members of two classes u and v to be "equal,"
when there can be set up a one-one correspondence between the members of
« and those of v.

The sign = is to be distinguished from "= Df."

77 See Dedekind, Was sind and was sollen die Zahlen ? 1887 and 1893, pp.
1-2 (translation in Dedekind' s Essays on Number, Chicago, pp. 44-45) 5 Schro-
der, op. cit., Bd. I, Leipsic, 1890, pp. 184-186; Peano, Formulaire de mathe-
matiques, t. II, § I, prop. 80 ; Burali-Forti, Bibl. du Congres Internat. de Phil,
t. Ill, p. 292; Frege, Grundgesetze der Arithmetik, Bd. I, Jena, 1893, p. ix,
and II, 1902, p. 71.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. 113

by o is also one of the things denoted by b.18 Now the notion of
equality, so often used in mathematics, in which not every property
of a is one of b, but the relation connecting a and b is, like equality,
reflexive, symmetrical, and transitive,, is always one of the equality
as defined above of certain functions of a and b. Thus, some geo-
metricians have extended the meaning of equality and have called
a (plane and rectilinear) figure a "equal" to a figure b when a is
superposable (after dissection, if necessary) on b; this relation of
superposability is reflexive, symmetrical, and transitive, and this re-
lation which we may write a$>b, can be put into the form <f>(a)=<f>(b)
by letting "<f>( )" stand for "the area of ( )." Similarly, the rela-
tion of parallelism (analogous, in many ways, to equality) between
two straight lines a and b transforms into an identity between certain
functions of = the directions of a and 6.79

It is better to avoid introducing new conceptions unless they
are really necessary, and new conceptions of equality are not neces-
sary, and have the disadvantage, further, of rendering confusion
possible. The decisive factor is, here as in the question as to whether
numbers and other mathematical conceptions are to be defined log-
ically or to be regarded as entities created by our minds, that entia
non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitate™,, and hence that the
problem of first principles is a minimal problem.

VI.

Most mathematicians would say that "existence" is absence of
contradiction ; whereas we have defined logical (or, what is the
same thing, mathematical) existence as an attribute applying to a
class a which is not null.80 The proof that a class "exists" or is not

11 Supposing that properties (prepositional functions) determine classes
in the manner already explained, this may be also put in the form: "a=b"
means that every class which contains the object a also contains b. On Frege's
theory that equality is not an identity of names, but expresses an identity of
what he calls "denotation" (Bedeutung) together with a diversity of "signifi-
cation" (Sinn), see his essay "Ueber Sinn und Bedeutung" in Zeitsch. fur
Phil., C, 1892. We shall return to this point.

n Cf. Frege, Grundlagen, pp. 76-77 ; Couturat, op. cit., p. 49, note ; Burali-
Forti, "Sur 1'egalite, et sur 1'introduction des elements derives dans la science,"
Enseignement math., I, 1899, pp. 246-261, and the above-mentioned Congres
paper (pp. 289-307).

-Cf. Russell, Mind, N. S., XIV, 1905, p. 398.

114 THE MONIST.

null, is always brought about by the actual construction or indica-
tion of an individual belonging to the class, and to inquire if an
individual "exists" has no meaning.81 This, now, is the point:
mathematicians require a proof of the "existence" of an individual,
logicians reply that "existence is a property of classes alone.82 And
the logicians' reply is obviously not satisfactory:83 it leads one to
suspect that there may be individuals, which may be used to prove
the existence of classes to which they belong, and which are self-
contradictory.

Let us examine a case in which mathematicians have proved
what they would call the non-existence of an individual, namely,
the self-contradictory nature of a complex number with more than
two independent unities which satisfies all the formal laws of ordi-
nary algebra. But we may also express the result of this as: the
class of such complex numbers is null, or non-existent, and such a
number is not an entity at all. Mathematicians, in fact, have used
the word "exists" in two senses: (i) A class exists when we can
find a member of it;84 and (2) an individual does not exist when
it is self-contradictory. Logicians use "exists" in the first sense
only, for the second sense is merely: a class of such individuals
does not "exist," in the first sense. The question is merely a verbal
one, the mathematician's usage is confusing, the logician's is not.85

What is of great importance in this connection is that, as we
shall see in the second part, while we may define the null-class as
xi$x, where $x is false for every entity x (such as <j>x = "x is not
identical with x"), we may also have a non-entity, which may be

81 Of course, a class (even a null, or non-existent class) can be considered
as an individual with respect to a class of classes.

w Cf . Couturat, Rev. de mttaphys. et de morale, March, 1906, pp. 232-234 ;
Poincare, ibid., September, 1906.

w Couturat's comments are not always accurately expressed : "On ne de-
montre pas 1'existence d'un individu comme tel. Les individus, par cela
meme qu'ils sont des individus, sont toujours considered comme existants;
ou plutot la question ne se pose pas pour eux." To talk of an existent indi-
vidual (even though the epithet obviously was not meant to be taken literally)
only increases confusion; the fact is that an entity, if it is an entity, is a self-
contradictory entity (an entity which is a non-entity).

84 Cf., for example, Dedekind, Essays on Number, 45, 49, 58.

88 That "exists" in mathematics often means "has being" or "is an entity"
is one of the discoveries whose genesis will be described in a later issue.

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS.

proved to be a member of the null-class, determined by x*tyx, where
tyx is not false for every entity x. Thus tyx="x is not a member
of x" is true for some (if not all) x's, but xr*tyx is not an entity.
And further, this x^x appears to be an existent class; a strange
dilemma for those who rely on intuition.

As early as 1884, Frege,86 when criticising Hankel's formalist
theory of the "numbers" of analysis, gave, in an important passage,
the modern logical view of existence, including the remark, that a
contradictor)' concept is permissible — but has no extension,87 — and
that the process88 of introducing new "signs" as numbers, con-
formably to the "principle of permanence," is an error.

The chain of the existence-theorems for cardinal and ordinal
arithmetic is, now, as follows:89

It may be shown, to begin with, that no definite class embraces
all terms: this results from the fact that, since o is a cardinal num-
ber, the number of numbers up to and including a finite number n
is n-f-i. Further, if n be a finite number, n-fi is a new finite number
different from all its predecessors. Hence finite cardinals form a
"progression,"90 and therefore the ordinal number o and the cardinal
number X0 exist (in the mathematical sense). Hence, by mere re-
arrangements of the series of finite cardinal numbers, we obtain all
ordinal numbers of Cantor's second class. We may now define «!
as the class of serial relations such that, if « be a class contained in
the field of one of them, to say that « has successors implies and
is implied by saying that u has a finite number of, or NOJ terms ; and
it is easy to show that the series of ordinal numbers of the first and
second classes in order of magnitude is of this type. Hence the

" Grundlagen, pp. 105-106, 107-108.

"This may be illustrated by Euclid's "*«" (see above).

"This process is used in the formal theory, but there is no doubt that
Cantor did not, in spite of a statement of Pringsheim's Encykl. der math.
Wiss. (Bd. I, p. 69) consider (at least in his later works) his transfinite
numbers as a generalization of the a priori given concept of finite number.
Also Schonflies's use of the "principle of permanence" to obtain the concepts
of infinite numbers and types (Die Entwtckelung der Lehre von den Punkt-
mannigfaltigkeiten, Leipsic, 1900, pp. 3-4, 27) must be regarded as a mistake.

*Op. cit., pp. 322-323; cf. pp. ix, 111-116, 277-281, 313, 321-322, 407-498;
and Hibbert Journal, July, 1004, pp. 810-811.

* Op. cit., p. 239.

Il6 THE MONIST.

existence of wj is proved ; and xx is defined to be the cardinal number
of terms in a series whose generating relation is of the type wj.
Hence, we can advance to 03 and X2, to «<,,, and Nw, and so on. This
process gives us a one-one correlation of ordinals with (some) car-
dinals: it is evident that, by extending the process, we can make
each cardinal which can belong to a well-ordered series correspond
to one and only one ordinal. Cantor assumed that every class is
the field of some well-ordered series, and hence deduced that all
cardinals are Alephs.91 This assumption seemed to Russell unwar-
ranted.

VII.

Another, and rather different, example of the use of this "prin-
ciple of abstraction" was given by Russell92 in his definition of a
real number. A real number was, as we have seen above, defined
by Peano by abstraction: but Russell gave a nominal definition of
a real number as a class, which can be proved to be an" existent"
class,93 and which has all the mathematical properties commonly
assigned to a real number.

Any class of rational numbers94 which is not null, which does
not comprise all rational numbers,95 and which comprises all those
less than any one of its elements, is called a segment of rationals.
To each rational r belongs one segment (of rationals less than it),

* See below.

* Op. cit., pp. 270-286 ; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 85-89.

** It is only by defining a number nominally, and as a class that its "ex-
istence" can be proved.

**The rational numbers here used are signless ratios or relations of finite
cardinal numbers (see Russell, op. cit., pp. 149-150; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 79-
8l), or again they may be defined as Frege (Grundlagen, pp. 114-115) seemed
to have urged, as classes (which can be proved to "exist") of couples. In
either case, these rationals must be carefully distinguished from the rationals
with sign (positive and negative), in the same way that a cardinal number n
(a class) is not to be confused with the "positive integer" -{-n (a relation,
see Russell, op. cit., p. 229; Couturat, op. cit., pp. 80, 89). Cf. the distinction
carried out between integers, integers with sign, rationals, rationals with sign,
and so on, by Peano, with only minor mistakes in his Formulario de mathe-
matica, V, 1905, pp. 83, 95-100, etc.

96 By dropping the first condition alone, we may introduce zero, and, by
dropping the second condition alone, we may introduce infinity, as limiting
cases of segments (Russell, op. cit., pp. 273-274; Couturat, op. cit., p. 89; cf.
Jourdain, Journ. fur Math., Bd. CXXVIII, 1905, p. 186).

TRANSFINITE NUMBERS. 117

but not inversely ;98 and, indeed, the class of segments is not capable
of a one-one correlation with the class of nationals.

If, now, we confine our attention to those segments which have
no rational maximum, or, in other words, the segments («) such
that every term of « is less than some other term of u, and consider
those other classes v of nationals such that, if x is any member of u,
there is a member of v greater than it, and, if y is any member of
v, there is a member of u greater than it. This relation of v to u
may be expressed :9T "v is coherent to M" ; and Cantor98 considered
this relation of being coherent (zusammengehorig) when, as is
sufficient when u is any segment of nationals (of type -q), v is a
"fundamental" series (of type <o)

<«>u o)2, ..., u>v, ...;

while the series cannot be of finite type if u has no maximum. An-
other class w (arranged in type <o .2, for example, or again in type
<o), may also be coherent to u, and the relation of being coherent may
be proved to be symmetrical and transitive. From this we infer that
both v and w have to some third term (the "common property") a
relation which neither has to any other term; and this third term
may be taken to be the segment u which both define, and thus u is
said to be the real number which all classes coherent to u define.99

Now there is a difference between the use of the "principle
of abstraction" here and its use in defining the cardinal number
of a class. Here a class of rationals has the relation of "being co-
herent to" its real number, there a class had the relation e to its
cardinal number. And we may frame a definition of a real number
like, in this respect, that of a cardinal number. If a is a class
(finite or infinite) of rationals, we may define the real number be-

" This fact may be described by saying that there are irrational segments.

w Russell, op. cit.f p. 274.

"Math. Ann., Bd. XLVI, 1895, p. 508.

"Peano (Formulario, 1905, p. 10) defined a real number /'«, the "upper
limit of u," where u is a class of rationals, by the abstraction :

r« = Vv . = . i?u = iw Df.,

where n« and w are segments. Russell's definition is :

I'u = -nu,

which obviously satisfies the above equation, and does not require any new
meaning of = besides logical identity (cf. above § 5).

Il8 THE MONIST.

longing to u (/'«) as "the class of all those classes which are coherent
to «."

We shall find an analogue to these two definitions of real num-
ber in the definitions of cardinal and ordinal number which I propose
(in what I call my "second theory"), as seeming, for a certain reason,
preferable to Russell's though the new definitions are not essential
to the theory.100 With Russell's the relation of a class v to its car-
dinal number is e, with mine this relation is "is similar to"; and
both definitions satisfy the necessary requirements of being nominal
and not requiring the re-definition of =, which has thus the same
meaning (of identity) throughout all logic and mathematics.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

PHILIP E. B. JOURDAIN.
BROADWINDSOR, BEAMINSTER, DORSET, ENGLAND.

***This "second theory," in which cardinal numbers are defined, by an
extended induction, to be classes of the preceding cardinal numbers, seems
necessary if we are to avoid — what we must in what will be referred to as
the "limitation-of-size theory" — defining a number as a class equivalent to
the class of all classes. However, it must be acknowledged that Russell, by
his "no-classes theory," has made such an attempt to improve the older theory
superfluous.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

ODDLY-EVEN MAGIC SQUARES.*

A convenient classification of magic squares is found by recog-
nition of the root as either a prime number or evenly-even, or oddly-
even, or oddly-odd. These four classes have many common traits,
but owing to some characteristic differences, a universal rule of
construction has hitherto seemed unattainable. The oddly-even
squares especially, have proved intractable to methods that are
readily applicable to the other classes, and it is commonly believed
that they are incapable of attaining the high degree of magical
character which appears in those others.

Mr. W. S. Andrews, in Magic Squares and Cubes, page 183,
has indeed presented a remarkable composite lo-square, a quasi
5-square, formed of twenty-five quadrate groups of consecutive
terms, that is, a series of progressive 2-squares. That specimen has
most of the diagonals correct, and the author ventures a prophecy
that the number of such diagonals may in some way be increased.
As some extensive explorations, recently made along those lines,
have reached a very high latitude, the results will now be presented,
showing a plan for giving to this peculiar sort, more than the
ordinary magical properties.

Problem: To make oddly-even squares which shall have proper
summation in all diagonal and rectangular rows except two, which
two shall contain S — i and S-f-i respectively. This problem is
solved by the use of auxiliary squares.

If n is an oddly-even root, and the natural series i, 2, 3 etc. to
n* is written in current groups of four terms, thus:

1.2.3.4.— 5.6.7.8. — 9.10.11.12. — 13.14.15.16. etc.
0.1.2.3. — 0.1.2.3. — o. i. 2. 3. — o. i. 2. 3. etc.

159 J3 etc.

* Diagrams drawn by W. S. Andrews, Schcnectady, N. Y.

120

THE MONIST.

then from each current group a series 0.1.2.3 maY be subtracted,
leaving a series 1.5.9.13 etc. to n- — 3, a regular progression of
w2/4 terms available for constructing a square whose side is w/2.
As there are four such series, four such squares, exactly alike,
readily made magic by well-known rules, when fitted together around
a center, will constitute an oddly-even square possessing the magical
character to a high degree. This will serve as the principal auxil-
iary. Another square of the same size must now be filled with the
series 0.1.2.3 repeated w2/4 times. The summation 3^/2 being
always odd, cannot be secured at once in every line, nor equally
divided in the half lines, but all diagonal and all rectangular rows,
except two of the latter, can be made to sum up correctly. Hence
the completed square will show a minimum of imperfection.

In illustration of these general principles, a few examples will
be given, beginning properly with the 2-square, smallest of all and
first of the oddly-even. This is but an embryo, yet it exhibits in
its nucleated cells some germs of the magical character, capable of
indefinite expansion and growth, not only in connection with those
of its own sort, but also with all the other sorts. Everything being
reduced to lowest terms, a very general, if not a universal principle
of construction may be discovered here. Proceeding strictly by
rule, the series 1.2.3.4. affords only the term i. repeated four
times, and the series 0.1.2.3. taken once. The main auxiliary
(Fig. i) is a genuine quartered 2-square, equal and identical and
regular and continuous every way. S=2.

Fig. i. Fig. 2 Fig. 3. Fig. 4. Fig. 5.

The second auxiliary (Fig. 2) taking the terms in direct order,
has eight lines of summation, showing equality, 8=3, in all four
diagonals, while the four rectangular rows give inequalities 1.5
and 2.4; an exact balance of values. This second auxiliary may
pass through eight reversed, inverted or revolved phases, its semi-
magic character being unchanged. Other orders may be employed,
as shown in Figs. 3 and 4, bringing equality into horizontal or
vertical rows, but not in both directions at the same time. Now
any one of these variables may combine with the constant shown
in Fig. i, developing as many as twenty-four different arrange-
ments of the 2-square, one example of which is given in Fig. 5.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS

121

It can not become magic unless all its terms are equal; a series
whose common difference is reduced to zero. As already suggested,
this 2-square plays an important part in the present scheme for
producing larger squares, pervading them with its kaleidoscopic
changes, and forming, we may say, the very warp and woof of their
substance and structure.

The 6-square now claims particular attention. The main auxil-
iary, Fig. 6, consists of four 3-squares, each containing the series
1.5.9.13 etc. to 33. The 3-square is infantile; it has but one plan
of construction ; it is indeed regular and can not be otherwise, but it
is imperfect. However, in this combination each of the four has a
different aspect, reversed or inverted so that the inequalities of par-
tial diagonals exactly balance. With this adjustment of subsquares
the 6-square as a whole becomes a perfect quartered square, 8=102 ;
it is a quasi 2-square analogous to Fig. i.

2:3

2t>

Fig. 6.

Fig. 7-

The four initial terms, I . I . I . i symmetrically placed, are now
to be regarded as one group, a 2-square scattered into the four
quarters; so also with the other groups 5.5.5.5 etc. Lines con-
necting like terms in each quarter will form squares or other
rectangles, a pattern, as shown in Figure 9, with which the sec-
ond auxiliary must agree. The series 0.1.2.3 is used nine times
to form this second square as in Figure 7. There are two con-
ditions : to secure in as many lines as possible the proper summation,
and also an adjustment to the pattern of Fig. 6. For in order that
the square which is to be produced by combination of the two
auxiliaries shall contain all the terms of the original series, i to 36,
a group o. i . 2 . 3 of the one must correspond with the group i . i . i . i
of the other, so as to restore by addition the first current group
1.2.3.4. Another set 0.1.2.3 must coincide with the 5.5.5.5;
another with the 9.9.9.9 and so on with all the groups. The
auxiliary Fig. 7 meets these conditions. It has all diagonals cor-

122

THE MONIST.

rect, and also all rectangular rows, except the 2d and $th verticals,
which sum up respectively 8 and 10.

Consequently, the finished square Fig. 8 shows inequality in
the corresponding rows. However, the original series has been
restored, the current groups scattered according to the pattern, and
although not strictly magic it has the inevitable inequality reduced
to a minimum. The faulty verticals can be easily equalized by trans-
posing the 33 and 34 or some other pair of numbers therein, but
the four diagonals that pass through the pair will then become in-
correct, and however these inequalities may be shifted about they
can never be wholly eliminated. It is obvious that many varieties
of the finished square having the same properties may be obtained
by reversing or revolving either of the auxiliaries, and many more
by some other arrangement of the subsquares. It will be observed
that in Fig. 6 the group 21 is at the center, and that each 3-square
may revolve on its main diagonal, i and 25, 9 and 33, 29 and 5
changing places. Now the subsquares may be placed so as to bring

J>3

Fig. 8.

Fig. 9.

either the 5 or the 13 or the 29 group at the center, with two
changes in each case. So that there may be 8X8X8=512 variations
of this kind. There are other possible arrangements of the sub-
squares that will preserve the balance of the partial diagonals, but
the pattern will be partly rhomboidal and the concentric figures
tilted to right and left. These will require special adaptation of
the second auxiliary.

We come now to the lo-square, no longer hampered as in the
6-square, by the imperfection of the subsquares. The main auxil-
iary Fig. 10 consists of four 5-squares, precisely alike, each contain-
ing the series 1.5.9 etc- to 97> $=245, in every respect regular
and continuous. All four face the same way, but they might have
been written right and left, as was necessary for the 3-square. The

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS

123

groups 1. 1. 1. 1, 5.5.5.5 etc. are analogously located, and the pat-
tern consists of equal squares, not concentric but overlapping. The
lo-square as a whole is regular and continuous. 8=490.

•SJ

fff

Fig. 10.

The second auxiliary Fig. n is supposed to have at first the
normal arrangement in the top line 0.3.0.0.3.2.2.1.2.2. which
would lead to correct results in the rectangular rows, but an alter-
nation of values in all diagonals, 14 or 16. This has been equalized

«3

Fig. ii.

by exchange of half the middle columns, right and left, making all
the diagonals =15, but as the portions exchanged are unequal
those two columns are unbalanced. The exchange of half columns
might have taken place in the ist and 8th, or in the 2d and 6th, either

124

THE MONIST.

the upper or the lower half, or otherwise symmetrically, the same
results following.

The resultant square Fig. 12 contains all the original series, i to
100; it has the constant 8=505 in thirty-eight out of the total of
forty rows. When made magic by transposition of 15 and 16, or
some other pair of numbers in those affected columns, the four
diagonals that pass through such pair must bear the inequality.

s-6

-3S

?0 26

Fig. 12.

Here, as in the previous example, the object is to give the second
auxiliary equal summation in all diagonals at the expense of two
verticals, and then to correct the corresponding error of the fin-
ished square by exchange of two numbers that differ by unity.

In all cases the main auxiliary is a quartered square, but the
second auxiliary is not ; hence the completed square cannot have the
half lines equal, since S is always an odd number. However,
there are some remarkable combinations and progressions. For
instance in Fig. 12 the half lines in the top row are 252+253; in
the second row 2534-252 ; and so on, alternating all the way down.
Also in the top row the alternate numbers 73+864-20+314-43=253
and the 32, 41 etc. of course = 252. The same peculiarity is found
in all the rows. Figs. 10 and n have similar combinations. Also
Figs. 6, 7 and 8. This gives rise to some Nasik progressions. Thus
in Fig. 10 from upper left corner by an oblique step one cell to the
right and five cells down: 73+29+85+41 etc. ten terms, prac-
tically the same as the top row = 490. This progression may be
taken right or left, up or down, starting from any cell at pleasure.
In Fig. ii the ten terms will always give the constant 8=15 by the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 125

knight's move 2 :i or 1 :2 or by the elongated step 3:1. Fig. 12 has not
so much of the Nasik property. The oblique step one to the right
and five down, 73+294-86-1-44 etc. ten terms = 505. This pro-
gression may start from any cell moving up and down, right and
left by a sort of zigzag. The second auxiliary is richest in this
Nasik property, the main auxiliary less so, as it is made by the
knight's move; and the completed square still less so, as the other
two neutralize each other to some extent. A vast number of varia-
tions may be obtained in the larger squares, as the subsquares
admit of so many different constructive plans.

The examples already presented may serve as models for the
larger sizes; these are familiar and easily handled, and they clearly
show the rationale of the process. If any one wishes to traverse
wider areas and to set down more numbers in rank and file, no
further computations are required. The terms 0.1.2.3 are always
employed: the series 1.5.9 etc- to 97» an^ after that 101.105.109
and so on. The principal auxiliary may be made magic by any
approved process as elegant and elaborate as desired, the four sub-
squares being facsimiles. The second auxiliary has for all sizes an
arrangement analogous to that already given which may be tabu-
lated as follows:

6-square, 030 — 222 top row

lo-square, 03003 — 22 i 22

14-square, 0330003 — 222 122 i

i8-square, 033300003 — 222212112 "
etc.

The top row being thus written, under each term is placed its
complement, and all succeeding rows follow the same rule, so that
the ist, 3d, 5th etc. are the same, and the 4th, 6th, 8th etc. are repe-
titions of the 2d. This brings all the 0.3 terms on one side and all
the i . 2 terms on the opposite. In columns there is a regular alter-
nation of like terms ; in horizontals the like terms are mostly con-
secutive, thus bringing the diagonals more nearly to an equality
so that they may be corrected by wholesale at one operation. This
systematic and somewhat mechanical arrangement insures correct
summation in rows and columns, facilitates the handling of diag-
onals, and provides automatically for the required pattern of the
2-squares, in which both the auxiliaries and the completed square
must agree. In making a square from the table it should be ob-
served that an exchange of half columns is required, either the

126

THE MONIST.

upper or the lower half, preferably of the middle columns; but as
we have seen in the lo-square, several other points may be found
suitable for the exchange.

This plan and process for developing to so high a degree of
excellence, the oddly-even squares, starting with the 2-square, and
constantly employing its endless combinations, is equally applicable
to the evenly-even squares. They do not need it, as there are many
well-known, convenient and expeditious methods for their construc-
tion. However, in closing we will give a specimen of the 4-square,
type of all that class, showing the pervading influence therein of the
truly ubiquitous 2-square.

•r /3 &

/<3

Fig. 13.

Fig. 14.

Fig. 15.

The primaries Figs. 13 and 14 as well as the complete square
Fig. 15, singly and together fill the bill with no discount. Each
is a quartered square, magic to a high degree. Each contains
numerous 2-squares, four being compact in the quarters and five
others overlapping. And there are many more variously scattered
abroad especially in Fig. 14. While these specimens seem to con-
form exactly to foregoing rules they were actually made by contin-
uous process using the knight's move 2 : i and i :2. The pattern is
rhomboidal.

In all the combinations here presented, and especially in these
last specimens, the 2-square is pervasive and organic. "So we have
a symmetry," as one of our philosophical writers has said — "which is
astonishing, and might be deemed magical, if it were not a matter
of intrinsic necessity."

D. F. SAVAGE.

NOTES ON ODDLY-EVEN MAGIC SQUARES.

The article on oddly-even squares by Mr. D. F. Savage in the
current number of The Monist is a valuable contribution to the gen-
eral literature on magic squares. Mr. Savage has not only clearly

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

127

described a clever and unique method of constructing oddly-even
squares, but he has also lucidly demonstrated the apparent limit
of their possible perfection.

The arrangement of concentric quartets of four consecutive
numbers in his 6X6 square is strikingly peculiar, and in studying
this feature it occurred to the writer that it might be employed in
the development of these squares by a direct and continuous process,
using the arithmetical series i to n2 taken in groups of four con-
secutive terms, 1.2.3.4. — 5.6.7.8. etc.

The constructive method used by Mr. Savage is based on the
well-known and elegant plan of De la Hire, but the two number
series which he has chosen for the first and second auxiliary squares
are unusual, if not entirely new. It is difficult to see how these
unique squares could have been originally evolved by any other
method than that adopted by Mr. Savage, and the different con-
structive scheme presented herewith must be regarded as only a
natural outcome of the study of his original plan. It may also tend
to throw a little additional light on the "ubiquitous 2X2 square" and
to make somewhat clearer the peculiar features that obtain in these
oddly-even squares.

Referring to Fig. i (which is a reflected inversion of Fig. 7 in
the article by Mr. Savage and therefore requires no further ex-
planation) it will be seen that this square contains nine quadrate
groups of the series 0.1.2.3., the numbers in each group being

Fig. i.

scattered in each of the 3X3 quarters, and in concentric relation-
ship to the 6X6 square. The numbers of these quadrate groups
are not, however, distributed in any apparent order as viewed nu-
merically, although the diagram of their constructive forms, which
will be referred to later on, reveals the symmetry of their arrange-
ment.

Any middle outside cell of the 3X3 quarters containing a

128

THE MONIST.

cypher can be used as a starting point for a 6X6 square, and in-
spection will show four such cells in Fig. I.

Selecting the second cell from the left in the upper line to start
from, the numbers in the quadrate concentric group of which this
cell is a member will be seen to have the formation shown in Fig.

O I I 5 9 II 16 \n

Z K — XI XI

-2 O

Fig. 2.

12 10 13 15

2A, so the first group of four numbers (1.2.3.4) in the series i to
36 are similarly placed in Fig. 3, running also in the same relative
numerical order.

To secure magic results in the completed square, each suc-
ceeding entry in the 3X3 quarters must follow the last entry in
magic square order. For the next entry in Fig. 3 there is conse-
quently a choice of two cells. Selecting the lower right-hand
corner cell of the 3X3 quarter of Fig. i used at the start, it is seen
to be occupied by i, and the formation of the quadrate concentric

/£)

•3*

/v-

Fig. 3-

Fig. 4.

group is as shown in Fig. 2B. The terms 5.6.7.8. are therefore
entered in Fig. 3 in similarly located cells, and as before, in the
same relative numerical order. The next quadrate group of 9 . 10.
11.12 have the order shown in Fig. 2C, — 13.14.15.16 are ar-
ranged as in Fig. 2D, and so on until all of the 36 cells are filled.
The resulting finished square is shown in Fig. 4.

Fig. 5 shows the different forms of the nine consecutive
quadrate groups contained in Fig. 4, written in regular order, and
it discloses the harmonious relationship of the couplets.

There are two alternative forms for the first group, as shown
in Fig. 5. If the square is to be pan-diagonal or continuous at the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

129

expense of the summation of two vertical columns, the right-hand
form must be used, but if the square is to be strictly magic at the
expense of making four diagonals incorrect, then the left-hand
form is correct.

a I

» » *
6 S

35 36
31 30

29 31

j; ss

ll 10

16 <,

15 ii ti

to i9

.8 ,7

Fig. 5.

X XI
X] IX
2 2

XI K

Fig. 6.

This graphic presentation of number order is instructive, as it
shows at a glance certain structural peculiarities which are not ap-
parent on the face of the square.

22.

2.0

Fig. 7-

Another of the many variants of this 6X6 square may be made
by starting from the fourth cell of the second line in Fig. i, this
being also a middle outside cell of a 3X3 square.

Under this change the forms of the quadrate groups are shown
in Fig. 6, the resulting square being given in Fig. 7.

130

THE MONIST.

When these 6X6 squares are made pan-diagonal, i. e., perfect
in all their diagonals, the normal couplets are arranged in harmonic
relation throughout the square, the two paired numbers that equal
M2-f-i being always located in the same diagonal and equally spaced
n/2 cells apart. If the square is made strictly magic, however, this
harmonic arrangement of the couplets is naturally disturbed in the
imperfect diagonals.

The above remarks and rules will of course apply generally to
10X10 and larger squares of this class. A 10X10 square modified

/£

3£

33>

6*.

7°

<?/

/oo

J-J

32.

/<?

Fig. 8.

— I

from Mr. Savage's example to secure the harmonic arrangement
of the couplets, as above referred to, is given in Fig. 8.

^ W. S. ANDREWS.

SCHENECTADY, N. Y.

BOLYAI, LOBATCHEVSKY, RUSSELL.

In his book on the Foundations of Mathematics, Dr. Carus
wonders what sort of pistols Bolyai used in the famous duels where,
like Ivanhoe, he discomfited the whole series of challengers. But
Bolyai was a compound of Saladin and Richard, fighting with a
Damascus blade which cut silken cushions or chopped iron. Franz
Schmidt told me in Budapesth that his father had seen Bolyai lop off
a spike driven into his doorpost, and that some of his duels were
to the death.

Bolyai published only 24 pages of text, but this is the most extra-
ordinary two dozen pages in the history of human thought. The
very first page would kill or cure my genial friend Mr. Russell.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

I fear the outcome, since on page 625 of The Monist, Vol. XIX,
he says : "As to such an idea as that two lines may be parallel if they
are taken in the same sense, and yet not parallel if taken in oppo-
site senses, I fail to find any vestige of it in Lobatchevsky's text.
That would be to make Lobatchevsky's system a system of vectors
instead of a geometry, and I am sure such a system as well as the
idea of a sensed relation would put me to permanent intellectual con-
fusion."

The confusion is already here, since vectors assume translation
independent of rotation, that is assume the parallel postulate, the
whole question at issue.

The Bolyai-Lobatchevsky geometry, then, is of course not a
system of vectors, but it is largely a system of rays. Bolyai says
the ray AB is that half of the straight AB which commences at the
point A and contains the point B. Then § i, "If the ray DC is not
cut by the ray AE, situated in the same plane, but is cut by every
ray AK comprised in the angle DAE, this is designated by AE|||
DC.

It is evident that there is one such ray AE, and only one, from
any point A outside the straight DC, and that the sum of the
angles CDA, DAE does not exceed two right angles.

It is also clear that AE|||FC, wherever the point F be taken
on the straight DC, supposing in all such cases DC>DF; that is,
ray FC of the same sense as ray DC.

Bolyai translates by the word asymptote his symbol |||.

To a given ray DC, from a given point A outside it, there is
one and only one asymptote AE. Bolyai calls parallel to the
straight DC every coplanar straight through A which nowhere
cuts the straight DC. So through A, in his terminology, there is
only one asymptote to the ray DC, but there may be an infinity
of parallels to the straight DC.

Philip Kelland, senior wrangler and tutor to Sylvester, whom

132 THE MONIST.

he called the greatest mathematician in the world, was an inde-
pendent discoverer of the non-Euclidean geometry, and like Bolyai,
he called parallel to a given straight all straights coplanar with it
which nowhere met it. But this meaning and use of the word parallel
has been superseded by Lobatchevsky's. He has no name for this
possible infinity of straights through A coplanar with the straight
DC but nowhere cutting it. But that one of them which contains
the Bolyai asymptote to the ray DC, Lobatchevsky calls parallel to
DC and then says "upon the other side of the perpendicular from A
will lie also a line AM, parallel to the prolongation DC' of DC, so
that under this assumption we must also make a distinction of
sides in parallelism."

This sensed relation then is Lobatchevsky's parallelism, and that
it is a sensed relation, a one-sided relation, a one-way relation, a
relation which goes toward one side only is stressed and emphasized
by his § 24 : "The farther parallel lines are prolonged on the side
of their parallelism, the more they approach one another." In other
words, Lobatchevsky parallels are one-way asymptotes.

So his next theorem, § 25, which tripped Mr. Russell, I might
have translated: Two straight lines which are same-way asymp-
totes to a third are also asymptotes to one another.

So of all straights coplanar with a given horizontal straight
which nowhere cross it, two through each given point are parallel to
it, one to the right, the other to the left, and all the others I call
ultra-parallel.

A parallel to a straight meets it at infinity. An ultra-parallel
does not even meet it at infinity. Parallels are straights with a
common point at infinity. Parallels are straights which meet on
a figurative point. If ultra-parallels determine a point, we must
have another name for it. Call it an ideal point. Thus equipped,
we are able to answer Mr. Russell's question, Monist, page 621 :
"How is the professional expert (the man who knows non-Euclidean
geometry) better fitted to see more lucidly in dealing with the ele-
ments of geometry than any other person of good geometric faculty ?"

Just thus, my dear friend : You say, "I will now spread before
the reader in detail what seems to me to be good geometrical proof
of my proposition. Consider and refer to the following figure."
I do, and instantly, at a glance, I see your fallacy, your petitio
principii. I am saved the reading of your three pages of pseudo-
proof. You assume that an angle is determined in size because it
is made by the side with the hypotenuse of an isosceles right-angled

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 133

triangle. You say, p. 624 : "Now the angle MEN being a w-angle
equals the angle /JeS. . ."; in other words, you assume that the size
of the isosceles right triangle has no effect on the size of its acute
angles. This is Wallis's form of the parallel postulate. And so
you are guilty of begging the question.

Not only would a smattering of Bolyai have saved you but so
would a little excursion into Chapter XV of my Rational Geometry,
which starts by saying: "Deducing spherics from a set of assump-
tions which give no parallels, no similar figures, we get a two-
dimensional non-Euclidean geometry, yet one whose results are also
part of three-dimensional Euclidean."

GEORGE BRUCE HALSTED.

GREELEY, COLORADO.

A REMARK ON F. C. RUSSELL'S THEOREM.

F. C. Russell of Chicago has endeavored in the April number
of The Monist to disprove the legitimacy of the non-Euclidean
geometry by showing the demonstrability of the parallel postulate.
The basis of his considerations has been laid on a simple propo-
sition that the angle-sum of an isosceles right-angled triangle equals
two right angles ; a proposition the proof of which he does not dare
give, saying it would be "spreading an imputation upon the reader,"
being so simple in nature. But the whole secret of the matter re-
mained concealed under this unknown sort of a proof, and so we
are lucky that we had it imparted to us by Russell himself in a
subsequent number. In studying it, we have found all that can be
desired.

Russell defines his w-angles "as being such angles as the sides
of an isosceles right-angled triangle make with the hypotenuse."
This definition is of course not in any way objectionable, but when
Russell has to consider the M-angles arising from different triangles
of unequal sizes, to be always equal, he has unconsciously fallen
into a pit of thought, from which he is unable to get out. When
we adhere to the Euclidean world, we can well prove the assump-
tion Russell makes, but how can he protest the legitimacy of it,
when he is going to show the Euclidean system to be the sole one
that can be relied upon ? If he wants to be credited by us, he must
first prove the assumption he has made ; which most probably he
cannot do without having recourse to the parallel postulate or some-

134 THE MONIST.

thing else that may be substituted for it. In a word, Russell has
substituted a different axiom in place of the postulate of Euclid.
His endeavor and achievement have however left nothing that could
make a step towards disarming the pan-geometricians. We stand
uninjured on the same ground as before in spite of all the desperate
assaults from the strong hand of Russell, who has utterly failed to
disground us.

YOSHIO MIKAMI.
OHARA, KAZUSA, JAPAN.

A MATHEMATICAL PARADOX.

The following paradox appears to me to be interesting because
it shows how "common sense" breaks down when dealing with a
slightly subtle question.

The question to be discussed is: Is the greatest weight that a
man can lift the same as the least weight that he cannot lift, or not ;
and if the weights are different, which is the greater?

The numerical values of all possible weights (both those which
the man A can, and those which he cannot, lift at the particular
moment considered) form the simply-ordered aggregate of posi-
tive real numbers R. Those weights that A can (at this particular
time) lift bring about what Dedekind* called a section (Schnitt) in
R, and all the members of R fall into the two classes :

a. The class of those numbers x such that A can lift the weight
x (then also A can lift any of the weights less than x} ;

b. The class of those numbers y such that A cannot lift the
weight y (then also A cannot lift any of the weights greater
than 3;).

Now, as is well known, there is one, and only one, number
which "generates" this section, and this number is either the upper
limit of the class (a), or the lower limit of the class (b), but not
both.

Thus, our answer to the question about the weights is: Either
there is a greatest weight that a man can lift, or there is a least
weight that he cannot lift, but not both. The paradox lies in the
fact that, to unaided common sense, the existence of a limit seems
just as, or even more, plausible in both cases or neither as in one

* Stetigkeit und irrationale Zahlen, Braunschweig, 1872 and 1892 (Eng-
lish translation in Dedekind's Essays on the Theory of Number, Open Court
Publishing Co., Chicago, 1901).

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 135

only. I cannot see how one is to tell in which case the limit does
exist ; only that it must in one, and only one, of the two cases.

In my opinion what is paradoxical to the ordinary mind in
this is: We have two classes of an infinity of members each (ar-
ranged in some order) ; now ask a person if there is a highest in the
first class; if he says "yes" (or "no") he will probably admit by
parity of reasoning, that there is (or is not) a lowest in the second.

And yet my case is a translation into picturesque language of
an instance well known to modern mathematicians in which the
answer must be "yes" in the one case and "no" in the other.

PHILIP E. B. JOURDAIN.

BEAMINSTER, DORSET, ENGLAND.

ON THE PROBLEM AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY OF

RELIGION.1

In a report before the Congress of Psychology at Geneva Prof.
Harald Hoffding of the University of Copenhagen undertook to sum
up his theory of the psychology of religion with, we must admit,
an air of easy and careless assurance. In such a delicate investiga-
tion we can not say, "I am right"; much less, "You are wrong."
I am not writing at all in this spirit, and I recognize in Professor
Hoffding too great a degree of culture to assume it in him. How-
ever, a fear has taken possession of me and I have not succeeded
in freeing myself from it. This is the fear lest Professor Hoffding
does not take into account so much as they deserve certain difficulties
which consciousness raises against the dogmatic presuppositions
which form its point of departure, — difficulties which I do not pre-
tend have been solved and much less do I pretend to solve them
myself, but whose proper comprehension will always be one step
forward.

Professor Hoffding's entire conception rests upon the postulate
which he lays down as most natural, that the psychology of religion
is a part of general psychology. However, religion does not lend
itself readily to this classification, but if it did it would be so much
like other questions, that if a psychology of religion existed, its first
claim would be that general psychology forms a part of the psy-
chology of religion. For it is entirely gratuitous and arbitrary to
consider "religion as a particular form and a particular direction

1 Translated from the French of Professor Billia by Lydia G. Robinson.

136 THE MONIST.

of psychological life." But what constitutes religion in conscious-
ness is precisely the negation of a particular form and a particular
direction. Do you wish to eradicate something from your cog-
nizance of a thing? Explain it by another while forgetting the
proper and constitutive element it possesses. Had I not a horror
of all psychological Baedekers I would say, "Beware of false gen-
eralizations." Yes, I learned at an early date, and I still maintain
to-day, that nothing is apprehended except in that which is more
general and more common. But there is the general and the generic.
That with which we have to deal is the general that is called the
universal, that does not exclude the essential, the particular, but
includes them. This difficulty does not entirely escape Mr. Hoff-
ding who endeavors to save himself by analogy. The objection
suggests itself that religion must be cognized by its own experience
in order to apply psychology to it. He expects this objection and
thinks he can overcome it by saying that in default of this experience
the psychologist would be able to conceive religious phenomena
while seeking to discover what place religion would occupy in his
psychical life if it existed for him, in the same way that he might
be able to imagine colors beyond red or violet. For this it would
be necessary for him to direct his attention to the place which reli-
gion occupies in the psychical life of those who are acquainted with
it from their own experience. The question is to define the psycho-
logical place of religion in the same way that the geometrical locus
of a point is defined in mathematics. But there is no psychological
locus and least of all for religion. Religion does not occupy a place
in the psychical life but it is the whole. It includes and creates all.
When it is anything else, it is either no longer religion or it is not
yet religion. Religion is quite a different thing to those who are
acquainted with it than to those who do not know it. For instance
certain rites, sacraments, prayers, ecstacies, clash too much with
so-called reason to be comprehended by an indifferent person as they
actually exist in a believer who experiences that actual perception
upon which alone religion rests. It is like love. Nothing is more
absurd than to see an indifferent person judge or laugh at it; as if
the external manifestations were the same thing for the one who
experiences the passion as for others, and especially as if the prin-
ciple from which these manifestations arise is in any way compre-
hensible except to him who has the experience. It is just such a
monstrous absurdity as the attempt to impose upon universal culture
a history of philosophy conceived and drawn up apart from all

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 137

philosophy. It is because of this, that in the analogy with which
Mr. Hoffding appears to be content, what is still to be accomplished
is given as accomplished. It is because of this that, contrary to the
opinion of Mr. Hoffding, I think that the historical method has no
value for the psychology of religion; that it is very useful as a
curiosity but if it takes a place ahead of psychology it only leads it
astray and gives it the illusion of describing and cognizing a mental
fact while remaining outside of the fact itself, which, especially for
a psychologist is too great an evil. In fact it is here indeed that
Mr. Hoffding takes refuge. The psychology of the savage and the
primitive man to which he resorts, following the example of Wester-
marck, is so comfortable ! "Magic," he says, "is a more primitive
phenomenon than religion." How does he know? "Religion," he
adds, "does not appear until man finds out by experience the in-
sufficiency of his magic power ; that is to say, until he perceives
his own limitations and his dependence. Hence it is by the path of
resignation that the step is taken from magic to religion." Although
he raises before our eyes a very imposing "hence," I have heard
a gamin murmur, "And who told you so?" I do not deny the role
which imagination plays. It is very useful in history and becomes
an absolute necessity in pre-history. But in this case instead of
imaginary experiences we have experiences which are truly experi-
mental ; actual experiences established which tell us that it is not
by resignation that we reach religion, but it is by religion that we
pass from a vain effort and despair to resignation.

One word more. What Professor Hoffding has to say about
the critical period at which the religious element becomes detached
from other forms of the mind is very instructive, but I may be per-
mitted to add that this does not detract from religion but advances
it. When the so-called other sides of the spiritual life become de-
tached from religion it is well for religion to be separated from
them in order to accentuate its superiority, its spirituality; and es-
sential inwardness.

The fundamental objection which I brought against Professor
Hoffding is so simple that it is not surprising that in the Congress
of Philosophy it should have been heard from several quarters. The
result was that by the second session I said no more, because the
idea for which I stood had found in the meantime far more able
interpreters than I in other speakers, especially M. Lutoslawski.
But since I did not stay to the end of the discussion which extended
through three or four other extra sessions, I was not aware that

138 THE MONIST.

any one else had undertaken to give a trenchant answer to that
objection which in my simplicity I considered unanswerable. I
have read of it in the report of the Congress published in the Revue
de philosophic of September, page 430. In replying to M. Rochat,
who, almost like myself, refuses to admit that a psychologist de-
prived of religious sense2 can study religious phenomena to ad-
vantage, M. Bernard Leroy, of 1'Ecole des Hautes Etudes, declared
that one need not be religious to speak scientifically about religion,
any more than he need be mad in order to discuss mental pathology.
Profound observation! Astonishing discovery! It deserves my
fullest appreciation. Oh, if I had but heard it some years ago! I
was once speaking with the greatest unconcern about the self-styled
psychiatrists, and with my usual abruptness classed them all in the
category of charlatans, and scouted without mercy the pretence of
judging the minds and souls of other people, of perceiving from
without and of arbitrary classifying mental disease by means of the
hastiest inductions, when a young physician of my audience regaled
me with the classical classification accepted by the modern schools
of sufferers from mental diseases into imbeciles, psycho-neurotics,
degenerates, psychotoxics and encephalopathics, with their subdivi-
sions into melancholies, maniacs, etc., etc., in such convincing ac-
cents that I was reduced to silence, and came to the conclusion that
a man not versed in psychiatry should not attempt to speak of it so
lightly. Simpleton that I was! If I had then heard M. Leroy I
would have known how to retaliate, and could have answered that
it is no more necessary to be a psychiatrist in order to talk about
psychiatry, than it is to be a charlatan in order to talk about char-
latanry.

Yet the opinions of Professor Hoffding and of Mr. Leroy are
instructive from another side. They show us the range of a very
common view of which we are not always fully aware and which
I hope to surpass. The postulate that the psychology of religion
is a part of general psychology depends upon the postulate that psy-
chological observation is a part of general observation, which may
be divided into the two classes, psychological or internal, and phys-
ical or external. One rather cautious party of spiritualists thinks
that it has already attained and safeguarded a good strategic position
by affirming the distinction between the two kinds of observation

al say "almost like myself." As far as I am concerned, what I have said
above leaves me no room to admit that a psychologist is ever deprived of a
religious sense.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 139

and the rights of the psychological in relation to the physical, which,
although more precise and more definite, is not the only kind. But
this is not enough for me.

What is physical observation if not the observation of luminous,
audible, extended, — that is to say, sense-perceptible, phenomena ;
and what are sense-perceptible phenomena if not perceptions, that
is to say, one kind of our psychical states? Physical phenomena,
including phenomena of extension, are clearly distinct from psy-
chical phenomena. Yes, but there are not two different observations
but only one ; psychology is not a kind of observation but observa-
tion itself. But I have just shown that psychology is not curiosity
but improvement, that one can not observe a fact without producing
it,3 and that psychology is more derived from ethics than ethics from
psychology. By giving ourselves this point of view we shall no
longer separate the religious character of observation from religious-
ness. As soon as improvement takes place through internal obser-
vation, and the observation is made from a sense of duty, ethics and
religion, the loftiest possessions of the soul, will no longer be kinds
of activity or kinds of observation, but the very principle of activity
and of observation.

L. MICHELANGELO BILLIA.

TURIN, ITALY.

THE PRAGMATIST VIEW OF TRUTH.

A PROBLEM WITHOUT A SOLUTION.1

Pragmatism is still agitating the philosophical world, and Prof.
William James continues the good fight dealing blows right and left.
There is a change only in so far as pragmatism does not seem to
spread further, and its ingenious leader now assumes more and
more the defensive. His main weapon consists in the declaration
that his antagonists have misunderstood him. They are accused of
distorting his views into silly absurdities which he did not mean to
say, and they are put down with such phrases as, "this is the usual
slander" (p. 274).

In our criticisms we have always been careful to quote the

* "Has the Psychological Laboratory Proved Helpful V Monist, July, 1909.
Compare "La Philosophic c'est 1'unite morale, Bericht d. III. Internot. Congr.
fur Philosophic, Heidelberg.

1 A review of The Meaning of Truth, A Sequel to Pragmatism, by William
James, New York: Longmans Green & Co. Price $1.25 net.

I4O THE MONIST.

master's ipsisslma verba, and so we feel that his complaint is not
applicable in our case.

But pragmatism is so subtile that no one appears to be able to
appreciate it unless he enters into its spirit with enthusiasm. Pro-
fessor James says (pp. 183-184) :

"The pragmatist question is not only so subtile as to have escaped atten-
tion hitherto, but even so subtile, it would seem, that when openly broached
now, dogmatists and sceptics alike fail to apprehend it, and deem the prag-
matist to be treating of something wholly different."

The difficulty of understanding pragmatism is greatly increased
to outsiders, to intellectualists as they are called, to rationalists, to
monists, and to the whole crowd of anti-pragmatists, by the brilliant
dicta of Professor James, who in his zeal sometimes makes state-
ments which he does not mean and which he offers only as an olive
branch to please antagonists or to gain their good will. Professor
James says in the preface:

"One of the accusations which I oftenest have had to meet is that of
making the truth of our religious beliefs consist in their 'feeling good' to us,
and in nothing else. I regret to have given some excuse for this charge, by
the unguarded language in which, in the book Pragmatism, I spoke of the
truth of the belief of certain philosophers in the absolute. Explaining why
I do not believe in the absolute myself (page 78), yet finding that it may
secure 'moral holidays' to those who need them, and is true in so far forth
(if to gain moral holidays be a good), I offered this as a conciliatory olive-
branch to my enemies. But they, as is only too common with such offerings,
trampled the gift under foot and turned and rent the giver. I had counted
too much on their good will — oh for the rarity of Christian charity under the
sun ! Oh for the rarity of ordinary secular intelligence also !"

Professor James complains about "the rarity of Christian char-
ity" and "the rarity of ordinary secular intelligence." But is he
not guilty of the same fault when he misconstrues what othei
thinkers have said before him ; when he censures them in sweeping
assertions for mistakes of which only some of them are guilty;
when for instance he declares (p. 192) that "throughout the his-
tory of philosophy the subject and its object have been treated as
absolutely discontinuous entities" (p. 136) ; while we know that
almost every philosopher has considered the two as correlates? If
our pragmatists were more familiar with the history of philosophy
they would probably not boast so loudly of the originality of the
movement, the leading ideas of which are old errors.

We do not doubt that Professor James has been frequently
misunderstood, and he confesses himself that he did not always

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

mean what he said, but it appears that the main reason that he is
so much misunderstood is his own carelessness. On page 272 Pro-
fessor James says with reference to the criticism of Professor
Bertrand Russell:

"When, for instance, we say that a true proposition is one the conse-
quences of believing which are good, he assumes us to mean that any one
who believes a proposition to be true must first have made out clearly that
its consequences are good, and that his belief must primarily be in that fact,
— en obvious absurdity, for that fact is the deliverance of a new proposition,
quite different from the first one and is, moreover, a fact usually very hard
to verify, it being 'far easier,' as Mr. Russell justly says, 'to settle the plain
question of fact: "Have popes always been infallible?" than to settle the
question whether the effects of thinking them infallible are on the whole
good.' We affirm nothing as silly as Mr. Russell supposes."

We are glad to know that Professor James does not mean to
make the pragmatic result of a belief the test of its truth; but we
can not help thinking that his explanations of the meaning of prag-
matism go pretty far to justify Professor Russell in thinking so.
When we refuse to accept pragmatism we also may be under mis-
apprehension; but if words mean what they say, Professor James
believes that science is not possible, or at least that what is called
science is not reliable, that new fangled theories have replaced the
old orthodox conceptions, that Euclid is antiquated because Bolyai
and Lobatchevsky have excogitated other geometrical systems, and
that truth and its exponent science have neither stability nor ob-
jective significance. We may misunderstand Professor James, but
this is what he says on page 57:

"As I understand the pragmatist way of seeing things, it owes its being
to the break-down which the last fifty years have brought about in the older
notions of scientific truth. 'God geometrizes,' it used to be said; and it was
believed that Euclid's elements literally reproduced his geometrizing. There
is an eternal and unchangeable 'reason'; and its voice was supposed to re-
verberate in Barbara and Celarent. So also of the 'laws of nature,' physical
and chemical, so of natural history classifications — all were supposed to be
exact and exclusive duplicates of pre-human archetypes buried in the struc-
ture of things, to which the spark of divinity hidden in our intellect enables
us to penetrate. The anatomy of the world is logical, and its logic is that
of a university professor, it was thought. Up to about 1850 almost every one
believed that sciences expressed truths that were exact copies of a definite
code of non-human realities."

Now we deny that geometricians ever believed that Euclid's
Elements "literally reproduced God's geometrizing" ; or, what means
the same, that geometry is a direct description of objective space-

142 THE MONIST.

conditions. All mathematical propositions are purely mental con-
structions by the aid of which we can calculate the relations that
obtain in space, or other conditions, proportions, probabilities, etc.,
and mutatis mutandis the same is true of logical syllogisms and of
the laws of nature. None of them are copies or duplicates, or arche-
types, but they are formulas by which we comprehend reality and
which serve us to adjust our conduct. Here Professor James is
guilty of an obvious misunderstanding of the import of science,
and he misconstrues the meaning of former thinkers.

While to some extent the pragmatist fights windmills which he
takes for giant errors, he takes new fads seriously or exaggerates
the importance of new theories, making out that they upset and
antiquate all previous science. Professor James continues:2

"The enormously rapid multiplication of theories in these latter days has
well-nigh upset the notion of any one of them being a more literally objective
kind of thing than another. There are so many geometries, so many logics,
so many physical and chemical hypotheses, so many classifications, each one
of them good for so much and yet not good for everything, that the notion
that even the truest formula may be a human device and not a literal tran-
script has dawned upon us."

The subjectivity of geometry is also insisted upon on pp. 83 ff.
On page 85 we read a sentence which reminds us of Kant. Here
Professor James says: "The whole fabric of the a priori sciences
can thus be treated as a man-made product" ; though Kant would say
that space is "ideal," which means belonging to the domain of ideas,
and we would prefer to say, that the a priori is "mental or a mind-
made product." How ideal or purely mental constructions can
possess objective values I have set forth in my book on Kant's Pro-
legomena.

But in the pragmatist conception everything dwindles down to
"purely human habits" (p. 29).

A genuine scientific truth is a formula which describes the
essential features of a group of facts. A scientific theory is a
tentative explanation of facts. Everybody knows that theories and
hypotheses are preliminary and we must always be prepared to sur-
render them. No scientist will regard the change of a theory as a
"breakdown" of the notions of scientific truth, be they old or new,
but while theories change, truths remain forever. Those features
of facts which remain, the "uniformities of nature" as Clifford
called them, those eternalities of existence which make science pos-
sible, are not subject to change. They are the raison d'etre on the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 143

one hand of the cosmic order, and on the other hand of man's
rationality.

Professor James calls his new book "The Meaning of Truth,"
but the reader, with the exception of his most ardent admirers, will
not know more about what truth in pragmatism means after having
read these latest explanations. Professor James even admits that
the very "name 'pragmatism' with its suggestions of action, has been
an unfortunate choice" (p. 184), and we at any rate must confess
that we are more bewildered than helped. Professor James himself
says (p. 215) :

"As I look back over what I have written, much of it gives me a queer
impression, as if the obvious were set forth so condescendingly that readers
might well laugh at my pomposity. It may be, however, that concreteness as
radical as ours is not so obvious. The whole originality of pragmatism, the
whole point in it, is its use of the concrete way of seeing. It begins with con-
creteness, and returns and ends with it."

Other philosophers too have proposed to begin with concrete-
ness and to end with concreteness, but the worth of a philosophy
consists in the method of dealing with the concreteness of existence ;
yet this portion is missing in pragmatism.

Professor James overestimates the significance of sentiment and
underrates the importance of the intellect. His world-conception
might be characterized as a philosophy of mood, of temper, of feel-
ing, of subjectivity, in rebellion against the rigid demands of in-
tellect, of science, of consistency of system. He dislikes theory and
system, prefers pluralism to monism, clings to the concrete, and ab-
hors the abstract. Such is the poet's and artist's temperament,
which is desirable in literature, in lyric effusions, in paintings, espe-
cially in Stimmungsbildern, but out of place in science and in a
scientific philosophy. Such temperamental expressions are perfectly
legitimate, and we enjoy the writings of Professor James as such,
but we must demur when he parades his subjectivism as philosophy,
indeed as the one philosophy to the exclusion of an objective or a
scientific philosophy.

Here is a sample of pragmatic epistemology :

"A feeling feels as a gun shoots. If there be nothing to be felt or hit,
they discharge themselves ins Blaue hinein. If, however, something starts up
opposite them, they no longer simply shoot or feel, they hit and know.

"But with this arises a worse objection than any yet made. We the critics
look on and see a real q [quality] and a feeling of q ; and because the two re-
semble each other, we say the one knows the other. But what right have we
to say this until we know that the feeling of q means to stand for or represent

144 THE MONIST.

just that same other q? Suppose, instead of one q, a number of real q's in
the field. If the gun shoots and hits, we can easily see which one of them it
hits. But how can we distinguish which one the feeling knows? It knows
the one it stands for. But which one does it stand for? It declares no in-
tention in this respect. It merely resembles; it resembles all indifferently;
and resembling, per se, is not necessarily representing or standing-for at all.
Eggs resemble each other, but do not on that account represent, stand for,
or know each other. And if you say this is because neither of them is a
feeling, then imagine the world to consist of nothing but toothaches, which
are feelings, feelings resembling each other exactly, — would they know each
other the better for all that?"

Rambling but witty, full of misconceptions but entertaining,
and disposing of the problem with a joke, — such is the style of the
leader of the pragmatic movement.

The book talks about truth, but never and nowhere does it clinch
the problem. We grant that it combats many errors, although we
must add that frequently what it combats are but straw men of the
author's own making. But whatever errors pragmatism may be
guilty of, Professor James is man of great vigor and ingenuity.
Though we would say that Professor James makes serious blunders
and is sometimes unfair to his antagonists, though he misconstrues
the philosophies of the past, though he lacks clearness of thought,
the first requisite for a philosopher, his writings possess a charm
that is unrivaled. He may be wrong in all his contentions, but he
is never dull.

EDITOR.

WILLIAM PORCHER DU BOSE, A CHRISTIAN PHILOS-
OPHER.

Philosophy and religion cover practically the same ground;
both are world-conceptions which serve for the guidance of con-
duct. Both undertake the great task of explaining the nature of
existence, of pointing out its significance and of deducing the les-
son which it teaches. Both appeal alike to the head, the heart, and
the hands. They appeal (i) to the intellect in offering a definite
doctrine as to the facts in question; (2) to the emotions in de-
termining the desired attitude toward existence as a whole; and
(3) to our will in rousing our energies and impelling them to the
approved kind of action.

The difference between philosophy and religion is this, that
philosophy is the world-conception of a thinker, and religion the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 145

world-conception of an historic movement. As such it may be
characterized as the philosophy of a community, viz., of a congre-
gation of people, not of one individual but of a multitude, of a
state, of a nation, a group of nations, of a Church or whatever kind
of community this superindividual movement may embrace. We
purposely use in our definition the term "historic movement" instead
of "community" or "congregation," because a religion is not limited
to one set of contemporary persons, but extends over many genera-
tions. Religious beliefs (and this is practically true of all ideas)
possess a superpersonal life. They may be born in the soul of one
man, but they are transferred to others, and pass down from father
to son, from teacher to disciple. In their passage from one genera-
tion to another, and in their transference from one nationality to
another, they change, they are modified, they are seen in another
light, they receive new interpretations and new applications, they
grow and develop, sometimes they wither, but the modifications
which they undergo are continuous. In a word, each one of them
represents a movement in the history of mankind ; and all of them
(i. e., all the beliefs and ideas of a special religion) constitute a
great superpersonal organism, the development of which is subject
to law and presents many analogies to the growth of physical
organisms.

During the Middle Ages Christianity had become the world-
conception of the nations of Europe and so almost all philosophers
of that period are expounders of Christianity. This is especially true
of Thomas Aquinas, who was a man of unusual breadth for his
age, assimilating the non-Christian learning accessible to him, viz.,
the Aristotelian philosophy, to Christian doctrine and incorporating
it into the system of the Christian world-conception. Since then
Christianity has grown and entered into a new phase during the
sixteenth century. In the meantime philosophy as a secular world-
conception began to develop gradually in independence of the Chris-
tian religion. To-day Christian philosophers are an exception.

By "Christian philosopher" I understand a thinker who like
Thomas Aquinas accepts the Christian world-conception as handed
down by tradition, uses its doctrines and symbols, and adapts it to
the general knowledge of the age. Such a Christian philosopher of
the Roman Catholic Church is Rosmini and of the American Epis-
copalians, William Porcher Du Bose.

Professor Du Bose is now in his seventy-fourth year and lives
in the vicinity of the University of the South, the center of learning

146 THE MONIST.

of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America. He was bora in
Winnsboro, S. C, in 1836. He was graduated as Doctor of Sys-
tematic Theology from the Univesity of Virginia in 1859, and served
as adjutant and later as chaplain in the Confederate Army during
the war. He was severely wounded and taken prisoner. He was
supposed to be dead, but recovered, and was spared to devote his
energies on the return of peace to the interests of education. He
entered the ministry in 1865, being rector successively in Winnsboro
and Abbeville, South Carolina. He became in turn chaplain, pro-
fessor, and finally dean of the theological department of the Uni-
versity of the South.

Professor Du Bose has not only found recognition in his own
country but also abroad. Professor Sanday,1 of Oxford, calls him
the "prophet of Sewanee" and "a real sage and seer" (p. 644), and
in another place "a religious philosopher." He characterizes his
book, The Gospel in the Gospels, as "rather a sustained endeavor
to get at the inner spiritual meaning that lies behind all external
presentation" (p. 644), and he takes note of the fact (p. 645) that
"Du Bose is very sympathetic toward modern thought" and that
"in view of the present condition a different attitude is advisable
from that which was characteristic of early Christianity."

The large mass of philosophers and people interested in philos-
ophy have become estranged from both religion and the Church.
They can scarcely understand the attitude of a man whose philos-
ophy is decidedly Christian. They are apt either to think that the
thoughts of a Christian philosopher are absolutely unscientific and
even anti-scientific, or suspect that his Christianity is no longer
genuine. The truth lies midway. Men like Rosmini and Du Bose
are quite scientific and certainly not anti-scientific, and yet their
Christianity has remained as genuine, at least, as the Christianity
of Thomas Aquinas after that was broadened by contact with the
culture of classical antiquity. Whether or not these thinkers will
become prominent factors in the further development of mankind
is another question which we shall not venture to enter upon, though
we may assume that most of our readers, even confessed Christians,
will answer in the negative. We will here limit ourselves to an
exposition of the philosophy of Professor Du Bose, and we propose
to give it as much as possible in his own words.

Four volumes lie before us (all published by Longmans, Green
& Co.), entitled The Sotcriology of the New Testament (1906),

1 In The Churchman for April 28, 1906.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 147

The Gospel According to St. Paul (1907), The Gospel in the Gos-
pels (1908), and High Priesthood and Sacrifice (1909), and all of
them are written in the style and world-conception of the Christian
faith. We do not claim that the meaning of traditional terms is the
same as that of the Apostles, or of St. Athanasius, Thomas Aquinas,
or Rosmini, but we do say that it is a faithful continuation of the
stream of thought which in its entirety is called the Christian religion.
Du Bose is a thinker of catholic tendencies, by which expression
we mean that he endeavors to remain within the movement which has
produced him and from which he draws all his inspirations. There
are other thinkers who would emphasize differences for the sake
of breaking away from their own tradition and branching off into
a new direction often with an ostensible show of originality. Not
so Du Bose, and yet his interpretation of Christian doctrine is orig-
inal enough, and his views bear the imprint of a modern education
far more than may at first sight appear. He says:

"For each time must have its own living interpretation, since the inter-
pretation cannot but be, in half measure at least, relative to the time. If the
divine part in it is fixed, the human is progressive and changing just in so far
as it is living."

He has studied the past and has sifted in it that which is tran-
sient from that which is eternal. He describes his task thus:

"We are attempting to address the world to-day, in the matter of its pro-
foundest interest, in terms of the world two thousand years ago. We have
first to know what those terms meant then, and to prove that all they meant
then they mean now, and mean for all men in all time."

This method "brings with it its embarrassments." Though the
times have changed, the Bible and the creeds are not antiquated, and

"We must take measures to preserve them, and the only way to preserve
them is to make them as living to day, as much part of our thought and our
speech and our life now, as they were two thousand years ago.

"In order to do that, we must cease to treat the phraseology, the forms,
definitions, and dogmas of Christianity as sacred relics, too sacred to be
handled. We must take them out of their napkins, strip them of their cere-
ments, and turn them into current coin. We must let them do business in
the life that is living now, and take part in the thought and feeling and activity
of the men of the world of to-day."

Professor Du Bose is apparently well acquainted with the re-
sults of church history and of higher criticism, but he makes little
use of them. He seems to know them, but they are trifles. He cares
for the world-conception that lies behind the Scriptures and of

148 THE MONIST.

which they have become different expressions. He attributes to
Paul the great work of having preached the pre-existent Christ
and of thus having laid the cornerstone of the system of Christian
doctrines. What harm that the Gospel writers have not yet realized
this ideal of the God-man, if it can be seen to be founded in the
eternal nature of things? Du Bose says, "The Scriptures are not
Christianity, but themselves a product of Christianity" — Soteriology,
p. 20. And whatever discrepancies there may be in the Gospels,
they are after all different aspects only of one and the same gospel,
and this gospel, viz., the gospel in the Gospels is the precious ideal
we should care for; it is the same of which St. Paul rendered later
a more complete construction.

Du Bose accepts the doctrine that mankind and every single
man is the son of God. He says:

"It is an old and familiar issue among us: Did Jesus Christ find man
son of God, or did He make him so?. ...I shall not so much undertake to
decide between these two views as attempt to state the truth of both."

It will be interesting to know what the person of Christ is to
a man like Du Bose, and we formulate the question thus: Why is
Jesus to him the Christ, the Saviour, the Incarnation of God ? His
answer is this :

"Jesus Himself in His humanity needed the salvation which all humanity
needs. Salvation for Him, as for us demanded that conflict with sin and
conquest of sin which was preeminently His experience and His achievement.
Salvation for Him as for us was impossible either as a mere fact of nature
or as an attainment of His own human will. The power of God unto salvation
through faith was necessary for Him as for us, and that power manifested
itself in Him, as it must in us, in the perfection of His human obedience
unto death, even the death of the cross. Through His own blood He entered
into the holiest, having found eternal redemption. That is to say, through
the perfect loss or offering up of Himself He eternally found or attained His
true Self."

"The joy of truth cannot lie in its individual possession. One cannot
think of the enthusiasm of Newton's discovery as a possession and pleasure
confined to himself. What was it for him, if it was not for the world ? Truth,
beauty, goodness are infinite personal possessions too, but they are all so in
the degree in which they are shared, and are impossible or valueless as only

one's own The holiness, the righteousness, the eternal life which our Lord

had achieved was His own; but, O, to Him how little was it, how much was
it not, His own! To have been the Truth, and have the truth that He was
denied; to have created righteousness, and have the righteousness rejected;
to have been all Love and Goodness realized and manifested, and to be met
with hate and requited with evil ! The contradiction, the gainsaying of sinners
against themselves, against their own souls, was what Jesus had to endure, —
why? Because He was their true Self, — all the reason and the meaning and

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 149

the justification, all the truth and the beauty and the goodness or good of
themselves. Himself alone was not the true self of Jesus; He included all
selves in Himself, and suffers, and is crucified and put to shame, or lives
anew, rejoices, and is glorified in the whole body and in every member of the
humanity that is Himself and His own."

Of salvation Du Bose says that "the term itself gives no hint
what it is." He says:

"The word Salvation comes over into the New Testament from the Old,
and it comes freighted with many associations which invest it with something
of a figurative and poetical character. As, e. g., in I Cor. xv, where death is
personified as the last of a number of enemies to be overcome and destroyed
in the Messianic Salvation. The more external and temporal Salvations of
the Old Testament, which familiarized the mind to the great truth of God
as Redeemer and Saviour of His people, are generally from personal enemies,
as Pharaoh, the heathen, and especially the great world powers which suc-
cessively oppressed them. The idea of Salvation had finally shaped itself into
the definite hope of the Messianic redemption, the expectation of a divine
deliverer who should save them from all their enemies. But who and what
were these enemies? We may be sure that when we have passed beyond the
mere outward figures and symbols of things to the things themselves, when
we come to do with that which is Salvation indeed, it shall be from those
things which are enemies indeed. And has not humanity its enemies? And
what are these in the last analysis but ignorance, and sin, and death! No
merely outward enemies are in themselves enemies. Pharaoh was the helper
of Israel's redemption as Judas was of our Lord's exaltation. The devil him-
self is to God's saints a ministering spirit sent forth to minister to the heirs
of Salvation. Naught in this universe hurts or can hurt us but what we our-
selves are and do. All things work together for our good, save as we our-
selves defeat them and are our own enemies. What we need to be saved from
is ourselves; and our only Salvation is that death of ourselves which is the
life of ourselves. The cross is the only instrument of human Salvation."

Our own incompletion is death and Christ is life. Says Du
Bose:

"Now 'as in Adam all die even so in Christ shall all be made alive.' No
one can know his New Testament without knowing how universally and con-
sistently our relation to Christ is represented as a being in Christ. The In-
carnation is not an individual fact limited to our Lord as a man; it is a ge-
neric fact including, or intended to include, in Him the whole race of man.
I hope to prove and illustrate at length elsewhere the important truth that
all that He was and did in the body of His particular incarnation He is and
does, or is to be and do, in the greater body of His general or generic incar-
nation; that as He has glorified humanity in His own individual body, so is
He to glorify it in the great body of his saints, who are only such as they
are in Him and He in them. This mode of representation so pervades the
New Testament that we need only to allude to the numerous descriptions of
the Church as the Body of Christ — described also as His iMipwfta, or fulness,
'that which is filled with His presence, power, agency, and riches.' "

I5O THE MONIST

Typical of Du Bose's mode of thinking is his explanation of
the significance of resurrection. He has nothing to say about the
physical event, "the resuscitation of a dead body." True he says
nothing against it, but he leaves it alone. His interest is concen-
trated on its significance.

He says:

"The resurrection, then, means to us so infinitely more than the physical
or physiological puzzle of the resuscitation of a dead person, that the acknowl-
edged and perhaps insoluble difficulties involved in that practically do not
disturb one who appreciates and measures the spiritual significance and neces-
sity of the fact. Christianity has permitted itself to be so mixed up with and
embarrassed by the natural aspects of the case, that it has weakened its grasp
upon the true fulness and incontestability of the spiritual truth and proof of
the resurrection. For my part, and I think in the interest of spiritual rather
than of physical science — though I believe them to be one — I fully share the
current prejudice against mere miracle (at any rate as we have been under-
standing it) as explanation for any phenomenon. I should very much prefer
to believe that in what we call the miracles of our Lord, and especially in
the momentous fact of the resurrection, there is manifested some higher
natural working than we have as yet been able to correlate with what we so
far know of nature. I am loath to believe that what I consider the most
significant, beneficent, and interpretative event in creation should have been
interjected into it as an interference or amendment. But at any rate Christian-
ity, I think, can afford to leave to a lower science what of puzzle there is in
reconciling the differing and often seemingly conflicting spheres of the
spiritual and the physical in human experience. The problem, for example,
of the reconciliation of personal freedom and natural causation will probably
never be solved, and yet the facts will forever continue.

"What then, let us recall, is the fuller significance of the resurrection?
As the death of Jesus, in its spiritual aspect, was not the fact of a moment
but the act of a lifetime, as the cross went with Him from the cradle to the
grave, and through every minute of every day — as also, He said, it should
accompany us, — so also was the resurrection of our Lord a continuous and
unbroken act and fact of His whole life. It was a consistent breaking through
or transcending the limitations that bind "all us the rest" in the universal
subjection to sin and death. The work of Jesus was the fact of His holiness,
and every moment of His holiness was an act of resurrection, inasmuch as it
was a raising our common nature out of and above its natural state or activity.
The death habitually spoken of in the New Testament, at any rate in its higher
teachings, is not a physical event. It may and does involve that too, sooner or
later, but even physical death, strictly as such, always presupposes an interior
spiritual death. Not, I think, that even St. Paul believes that but for the
entrance of sin there would not have been the natural change of death; only
that that natural change would not without sin have been the dark thing we
now, in consequence of sin, know as death. Rather would it have been a
change and an awakening, a second birth into a higher life. Sin is not the
cause of death as a natural change, it only makes it death in the unnatural
evil and dread of it. So it is only the sting and curse of death. Extract the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

sting, remove the curse, and death ceases to be death in its bad sense, and
becomes only a release and rest from the sorrows of this world and a blessed
entrance upon the activities and joys of another. And that other is not a
future world only, but an ever present one. It is the kingdom of God or
kingdom of heaven which was established in this world by our Lord's life
work in it. It is the kingdom of which He Himself said that no one could
see it or enter into it except by a new birth from above, a birth which is
potentially the whole of the death to sin and the resurrection to holiness and
God."

Du Bose makes a distinction between the terms "real" and
"literal," and applies them to his interpretation of the Lord's Supper.
He says :

"In speaking of what I have called the literal and real truth of the lan-
guage of the sacrament, I have, perhaps, failed to make a distinction which
ought to be made between the terms literal and real. 'This is my body,' may
express a very real without expressing a literal fact. The doctrine of tran-
substantiation seems to me to assume that the real truth of our Lord's words
is inseparable from their literal truth. The doctrine of real presence assumes
a reality which is separable from mere literalness, and which is not less real
and far higher for being so separated. Every verbum Dei must be what it
means, but it must be so in the sphere, or order of being, in which it is meant

or intended Our Lord Himself spoke of our continuing to see Him, hear

Him, etc. ; and we do not doubt that we do so in a very real, although not in
a literal, sense."

Further down Du Bose explains his interpretation of the sacra-
ment:

"But still the question remains, What are 'the body and blood of Christ,'
which are objectively or divinely given, and subjectively or humanly received,
in the Lord's Supper? What is it which under the terms 'body and blood
of Christ,' is verily and indeed given and received?

"If this question is to be answered in the light of the whole New Testa-
ment teaching, I think we must say, first, that what is given and received in
the Lord's Supper is Jesus Christ Himself, as not only our new lives, but our
new selves, as the ideal and spiritual self which in every man is to take the
place of his actual and carnal self. As once for all, in baptism, we put off
ourselves and put on Christ, so, in every communion, we repeat that act.
For while in the grace of God, and in our own answering faith, we are once
for all passed out of ourselves into Christ, yet in fact we need constantly by
the grace of God to be putting off ourselves and putting on Christ. Baptism
may be said to correspond to what is now called our justification, and the
Holy Communion to our sanctification. The one is the once-for-all identi-
fication of us with Christ, and the other is the gradual and progressive identi-
fication of us with Christ''

We receive Christ and Christ means the higher life, the life of
sacrifice. Du Bose says:

"He imparts to us the powers of the new humanity which He has insti-

152 THE MONIST.

tuted, by becoming in us the holiness, the righteousness, and the life of God.
Secondly, the flesh and blood given us in the Holy Communion are flesh
broken and blood shed; it is not only humanity, but humanity in sacrifice,
brought into covenant with God by sacrifice."

We have in Du Bose's exposition a Christianity which leaves
out the literal aspect of the dogma. He neither rejects nor refutes
it, nor does he accept it; he simply ignores it and lays all stress
upon the significance of Christian ideas. It can not be said that
he hollows them out and leaves us the empty shell, for on the con-
trary, he does not throw away the shell, but opens it and shows us
the kernel.

We do not venture to decide what part a Christian philosophy
will play in the future. Christians may discover that the same truths
which underlie Christianity can be obtained by other means and
that ultimately they agree more or less with the wisdom of the sages
of all climes and nations. There is an ideal toward which all con-
verge, Zarathustra, Lao-tze, Buddha, and Confucius, and even Mo-
hammed. On the other hand we trust that the critics and enemies
of Christianity will gradually learn to judge it not from its shell
but its kernel.

Friends of Professor Du Bose at the University of the South
in Sewanee, Tennessee, have published a calendar in his honor
which contains twelve characteristic passages from his books. They
read as follows:

"The Cross is the eternal symbol of selfsacrificing love, and love in which
God lost and found Himself in us and in which we lose and find ourselves in
God.

"Christianity gives us all things, but it requires of us absolutely all the
things which it gives us.

"Nothing can dispense us from the humble and devout use of divine
means, except the fact of having through their appointed use as means attained
the ends for which they were instituted.

"When you have made the law as high as God Himself, you will want
God Himself in you to enable you to fulfil it.

"It is not the receiving, but the showing mercy, not our being forgiven,
but our forgiving, that Jesus Christ is concerned about

"Knowing Jesus Christ is our gospel and being what He is is our sal-
vation.

"We may give ourselves in many ways and in many degrees, but it is
never real sacrifice unless its spirit is love and its form is mercy.

"Repentance, if it is repentance at all, must repent of sin as sin and of
any and all sin. ^

"As God sees us, as He has eternally foreseen and purposed us, so has
He manifested us to ourselves in Jesus Christ.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 1 53

"The Son of Man took to Himself no special privilege of birth or
wealth or class or office; He stood upon His manhood.

"The pure in heart see men as well as God as they are, and have the
sweet reasonableness to deal with them as they should

"It is not the being loved but the loving with a divine love that is our
salvation."

Though Professor Du Bose could not be called a mystic, a
careful reader will find many points of resemblance between his mode
of approaching theological problems and that of such men as the
author of Theologica Germanica, Tauler, and Angelus Silesius.

EDITOR.

PSYCHOLOGY MORE THAN A SCIENCE.1

Psychology, or the study of the soul, can have its origin only
within that very consciousness which is at the same time the object
of its investigation. It is for this reason that psychology has been
considered a branch of philosophy and has shared the same lot, now
honored and now under suspicion, banished. It is a well-known
fact that psychology has been banished by rigorous positivism.
Perhaps in so doing extreme positivism has been logical without
being aware of it.

If by science is understood the classification of facts, and if by
facts we mean those perceptible to the external senses only, psychol-
ogy has no place in science or among facts. A superficial observer
would be tempted to attribute the abandonment of psychology to the
triumphant taste for natural science. Nothing is farther from the
truth than this. It is either a slander or an over-valuation, whichever
you wish to regard it.

If materialism is to be approved because it is a system, we could
not legitimately derive a system from the taste for and the habit
of studying natural facts that are scattered, divergent, and without
unity. The process of reducing to a unity, even to what spiritualists
and critics consider a false unity, belongs always to the province
of metaphysics; it always exceeds the bounds of facts. If on the
other hand you say that the exclusion of psychology is to be con-
demned, nothing is more incorrect than to attribute it to natural
science which might easily be accused of confusing psychical with

Address delivered at the sixth International Congress of Psychology,
held at Geneva, Switzerland, in August, 1909, and translated from the French
of Professor Billia by Lydia G. Robinson.

154 THE MONIST.

other facts under the guise of vital phenomena, but not of denying
or excluding them. The trained man, whether investigator, student,
naturalist or physicist, never dreams of excluding the facts of the
soul, one of which is his own study, and another the pleasure which
he derives from it; rather does he bring about an absorption of
himself in the world which is at the same time an unconscious ab-
sorption of the world in his own personality.

Let us consider that it is to the founder of modern physics that
we owe the great discovery2 of the entirely psychical nature of
colors, tastes, odors and sounds, which has opened the way for all
the progress of the psychology, of the critique, and even of the
metaphysics for which the philosophy of our day considers itself
indebted to Berkeley, Hume, Descartes and Kant, and which may
still advance so far as to assign resistance and extent3 to the same
class, and to recognize their psychical nature. Indeed the exclusion
of psychical facts betrays too arbitrary a character to endure; psy-
chology would return to science by right of observation and classi-
fication of facts, because sensation, intellection, pleasure, grief, mem-
ory, association and consciousness, are facts no less than those
which are recognized as such in the organic and physical realm.

All parties seem to gain by this transaction: positivism loses
something of its particularism and becomes truly positive in not
excluding any facts ; spiritualism returns to science with its unique
facts and in a very favorable condition to rid itself of the useless
burden of metaphysical presuppositions. After all, this is a good
method, to deny nothing, to assume nothing; facts, facts, nothing
else but facts. Let us not trouble any more about spirit or soul, or
the ego, or the beginning, or the end ; all this is beyond the sphere
of human knowledge and especially of science.

But I have shown elsewhere that this position can not be sus-
tained and that the conception is inconceivable.4 Consciousness and
the ego are not hypotheses, nor are they the verbal consequences
of psychical acts, but rather the condition of those acts. Psychical
acts do not exist except in consciousness and they are not conceiv-

*I have already stated elsewhere that I would not dare either to affirm
or deny but that some philosopher of antiquity had an insight into this truth ;
perhaps Plato, especially in some part of the Theaetetus.

1 1 tried to do this in a critical analysis of the very admirable essay on
La Matiere, ("Matter") by the late Ernest Neville. This memoir is an extract
from the reports of the Academy of Moral and Political Science.

* In my address before the Congress of Psychology at Rome, "L'Oggetto
Delia Psicologia," which has also been translated into French by Professor
Beurtier and published in the Revue de Philosophic.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 155

able nor can they be verified except in the self and as the acts of a
conscious mind. It is not sensation which produces association, but
sensation is an association. And it is not association which produces
consciousness and the illusion called self ; but it is consciousness, it is
the self which makes the association. From this follows the irrefutable
conclusion, that internal observation is not simply the principal
means but the only instrument, the only source of psychology, and
that the method of psychological laboratories, in spite of their ex-
cellent intentions and of their serious investigations, rests upon a
fundamental misunderstanding and an insurmountable contradiction :
namely, that the mind and mental facts must be studied in a place
where they are not present, and can not be.5 I based my thesis upon
one observation, among others, which now leads me still further,
that is to say to the conclusion reached in this paper.

All the other sciences have for their object things which can be
observed and which do not suffer any change by being studied.
Psychology, on the contrary, changes its own object at every instant
and this object is ourselves. Here is a greater difference between
psychology and the other sciences, a more fundamental discrepancy,
than could be found between any of the other sciences. Geology
for instance makes a study of soils, but it does not produce them;
psychology not only studies sentiments, affections and moral uplift,
but is itself a sentiment ; it is itself affection and moral uplift. A
glance thrown upon the facts of the soul does not leave these facts
the same as they were before: if I perceive that I am ignorant I
am no longer so ignorant as I was; if I perceive that I am sinful
I would usually commence to improve myself; if I perceive that
I have become the toy of passion, that passion then begins to lose
its domination ; when a people perceives that it is not free it takes
one step towards becoming so in recognizing that it is its duty to be
free.

Again, the other sciences do not modify us or change us in any
particular; while on the other hand we can not study sentiments
without arousing them, cultivating them and changing ourselves
completely. The objection may be raised that every sort of study,
and every additional piece of knowledge changes us and modifies
us in so far that we were ignorant before acquiring it and after-
wards have become informed to that extent. Thus far one might

* This is the subject of my lecture at Heidelberg, A quoi servenl les labo-
ratoires de psychologic? translated by Lydia G. Robinson and published in
The Monist of July, 1909, with slight revision, under the title, "Has the Psy-
chological Laboratory Proved Helpful?"

156 THE MONIST.

say that all the sciences participate in psychology, rather than to say
that psychology is like the other sciences. But the effect is not really
the same. If I observe, consider and comprehend a series of num-
bers, let us say from 7 to 27, at each number I remain almost in the
same condition; the change in myself is not proportional to the
number of ideas received. On the other hand, if I not only name
twenty shades of sentiment, but if I should study them attentively;
for instance, love, hate, desire, austerity, joy or bitterness, compas-
sion or hardness of heart, selfishness or devotion, I would myself
indeed pass through the twenty shades of sentiment and even more ;
I myself would become the twenty good things or evil. In the other
sciences the personality is forgotten; it is necessary to forget one-
self. But in psychology one enters more and more within himself,
and this in an active way or in such a way that he knows no alter-
native, and he does not act at all without being conscious of it.
All psychology lies in this, and it is inconceivable in any other way.
Hence the fundamental opposition between psychology and the other
sciences; hence psychology is something more than a science, it is
life, and in this lies its responsibility. The other sciences teach and
enlighten us, psychology is ourselves. And just as we are not simple
objects of curiosity such as rocks, or the feet of insects, or Niagara
Falls, but a will which must perform a duty, and as that duty is
fundamentally the uplift of our feelings and of our entire nature;
•so psychology is not only a simple observation, nor can it be simply
the observation of all feeling; but it is careful, scrupulous choice
and perfection itself.

People often speak of the applications of psychology; perhaps
in doing so they underrate it. Psychology contains its own appli-
cations. Every glance which the mind directs upon itself is at the
same time both theory and practice. There is no such thing as
pedagogy, there is only psychology. We have no certain way to
control the feelings of others, even of little children. Those who
feel most sure of an infallible result end by accomplishing nothing
at all, or else an effect contrary to the one they wish. It is certainly
a paradox that the measure of an educator is not what he succeeds
in making of his pupils but in what he is himself. An educator is
not bound to make others good. The theory and art of education
consists in arousing in one's self, and then cultivating and perfecting
the kindliest and most generous feelings for children and for every-
one, and directing to the service of this good feeling the classifica-
tion of ideas, the sum total of one's knowledge, and the mastery

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 157

of one's self. It is said of some teacher that he has such a way of
doing, of managing, of explaining, that he wins others to him, that he
helps them, that he makes them understand and makes them love him.
Very good, but what is all that if not his own quality? Let us con-
sider the immense weight of an expression very common in all the
countries of continental Europe. When they want to exhort a man
to be on his good behavior, to give up his vices, and to conquer his
passions, they say simply, "Come (or return) to yourself." In
employing this strong expression they do not mean the sophistical
pride of the man who wishes it understood that he himself is the
moral law ; but they merely mean to acknowledge that the revelation
of moral law as well as every effort to execute it, to correct one's
evil inclination or to advance in the path of good, lies simply in
an act of reflection, of concentration and of self-examination ; that
it is not in books, much less in statistical tables, that our law may be
found, but within ourselves.

And if this is true of every meditation and every examination
of conscience, if it is true of the first steps of consciousness, what
a mistake it would be not to recognize that it is still more true of
the regular and constant application of the mind to the study of
itself, which is called psychology? And that psychology is indeed
something different and higher than any other science, for it is the
habitual practice of this application together with the transformation
and uplift which follows? That it is not only a fact of ethics but
its true actualization?

When learning the elements of mental science it is necessary
and very useful to first distinguish and clearly establish the exist-
ence, the nature, the degrees, and the kinds of sentiments and emo-
tions, and afterwards their moral value. Before the statement is
made that such or such a sentiment exists it must be defined, and
not until then should it be judged as to whether it is good or bad,
whether or not it responds to the ideal of morality, of justice and
of perfection. Indeed there is nothing less easy than to confine
oneself to this order of procedure, to guard oneself from confusing
at first sight the moral consideration, the valuation from the moral
point of view, with what ought to be the purely psychological de-
scription. But we can not be severe with regard to this confusion
and premature synthesis. It is according to the nature of things
that moral valuation is not only important from the practical point
of view, but it is an integral part of existence and of the nature of
psychical facts. Such a sentiment as love for one's neighbor, filial

158 THE MONIST.

affection and love of justice, exists and can be comprehended only
in relation to, and dependent upon, its moral value. Psychology, the
science of consciousness, should acquire a high consciousness of
itself. This would not be only an elegant detail in the department
of erudition but an actual ennoblement of the mind and of humanity.
When psychology shall have advanced to the true and complete idea
of itself it will raise to the loftiest heights all culture and life. Even
ethics will gain thereby. Abandoned forever will be the petty ety-
mological peripatetic conception that ethics is the science of customs.
As soon as people comprehend that the mind is everything and that
everything is in the mind, that the mind is not a means but an end,
is not a part of a certain totality, but what has hitherto been con-
ceived as the all is only an effect and a part of mind ; we will com-
prehend that there is no goodness outside of the mind, and we shall
easily come to recognize in ethics the science of character and of
duty. Every question, every social and political problem should be
solved in view of the rights and the finality of the mind. Govern-
ment, property and customs will be for the mind. The mind has too
long been subordinated to its own creations.

L. MICHELANGELO BILLIA.
TURIN, ITALY.

NON-ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC.

Mr. Charles S. S. Peirce adds the following explanation to his
comment on non-Aristotelian logic, published on page 45 of the pres-
ent number of The Monist.

"It does not seem to me to have been a lunatic study. On the contrary,
perhaps if I had pursued it further, it might have drawn my attention to
features of logic that had been overlooked. However, I came to the conclu-
sion that it was not worth my while to pursue that line of thought further.
In order to show what sort of false hypotheses they were that I traced out to
their consequences, I will mention that one of them was that instead of the
form of necessary inference being, as it is, that from A being in a certain
relation to B, and B in the same relation to C, it necessarily follows that A is in
the same relation to C, I supposed, in one case, that the nature of Reason
were such that the fundamental form of inference was, A is in a certain rela-
tion to B and B in the same relation to C, whence it necessarily follows that
C is in the same relation to A ; and I followed out various other similar modi-
fications of logic."

We deny "that from A being in a certain relation to B, and B
in the same relation, to C, it necessarily follows that A is in the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 159

same relation to C." The statement is not a necessary inference
according to the established rules of logic, nor could it be considered
Aristotelian.

If A stands in the relation of cousin to B, and B stands in the
same relation to C, it does not necessarily follow that A is a cousin
to C. Or take another instance. If A has a relation to B such as
lying 5 feet below B, and B has the same relation to C, it does not
follow that A lies 5 feet below C.

We do not venture to discuss the non-Aristotelian substitute,
because we are not sure to have grasped the meaning which Mr.
Peirce intends to convey.

We will further add that we never used the word "lunatic" in
connection with non-Aristotelian logic, nor would we say that it will
not be "worth looking into" the theory of a non-Aristotelian logic
"notwithstanding its falsity." p. c.

I6O THE MONIST.

BOOK REVIEWS AND NOTES.

DIE SELEKTIONSTHEORIE ; Eine Untersuchung. Von August Weismann. Jena :

Fischer, 1909. i colored plate. Pp. 69.

Professor Weismann's sense of the significance of the theory of selection,
as expressed in his contribution to the Darwin centennial memorial prepared
by Cambridge University (Darwin and Modern Science) is the same as it
has been throughout the fifty years of his labors in biological lines, and he
himself says that he would never have thought that there could be anything
to-day to add on the subject. It was not until he was engaged upon this
tribute to Darwin, and even after it was sent to England, that he came to the
conclusion that this theory could be established even more firmly than here-
tofore, that not only can the reality of the selective processes in nature be
made to seem in the highest degree probable, as he had hitherto thought,
but that they could be actually demonstrated. In his preface Weismann goes
on to say: "The logical justification was of course sufficiently sure. When
once the hypotheses were granted everything else followed naturally as in a
mathematical calculation. But the hypotheses could not always be established.
It could not always be demonstrated that the first and smallest beginnings of
the countless adaptations which were observed in organisms could be of ad-
vantage to their possessor, of such advantage, that is to say, that it could be
designated as "worthy of selection" ; advantages therefore upon the possession
of which depended the life and death of their possessor, at any rate its sur-
vival in its posterity. Not until I was thinking over what I had written for
the Darwin memorial volume did it occur to me that there are cases in which
the value for selection of the stages in the origin and descent of the natural
processes of selection lies clearly before our eyes, cases which at the same

time decide the question with regard to. the reality of such processes To

be sure probability was very strongly on the side of the selection theory even
without a formal demonstration. But we know indeed how many considera-
tions and doubts, yea how many of the most highly valued judgments in our
own days have repeatedly passed selection by as a "nurse's tale." At any
rate certainty is always preferable to even a high degree of probability." The
present pamphlet presents Weismann's original essay unchanged, except that
it includes the insertion of a few pages which have reference to the new
particulars of which he speaks in the above quoted sentences.

M. Theodule Ribot has published a new book on the problems of affective
psychology (Problemes de psychologic affective, Paris: Alcan, 1910; price,
2 fr. 50). Some of the essays here collected have been published before, but
have been completed by incorporating the results of the author's more recent
labors. The first essay discusses the psychology of sentiments in general. The
others treat of the emotional aspect of memory, antipathy, pleasure and illusion.

Giinther Jacoby, lecturer of philosophy at the University of Greifswald,
has written a treatise on pragmatism, (Der Pragmatismus, Leipsic, Dtirr, 1909)
in which he speaks of the new movement very appreciatively. He supports
the position of Prof. William James, and endorses his new conception of
truth. He looks upon pragmatism as a movement which strikes' out on new
paths.

VOL. XX. APRIL, 1910. NO. 2.

THE MONIST

MOSES.*

A^L that is great and significant in humanity is accom-
plished by great and significant personalities. To be
sure we have been warned against exaggerated personality
worship or hero worship, and have been told that the so-
called great men are nothing but the exponents of mighty
currents and tendencies of their time. In this thought
lies a certain truth, in so far as great men do not fall from
heaven but require some connecting links: the time must
be ripe for them, must to some extent have need of them,
and on closer inspection we will usually discover that the
currents and tendencies of their contemporaries have met
them half way ; but that these currents attained their aim,
that these tendencies were actualized, is solely and simply
due to the merit of the great men themselves, and there-
fore has earned for them the gratitude of humanity and
of history which associates these events with their names.
What is thus true in general of all great men and sig-
nificant human affairs is also very especially true of re-
ligion. For religion is life, the most personal life. It lives
only in personalities and through personalities. All great
and important events in the history of religion are inerad-
icably connected with the names of particularly favored

* A lecture delivered at Breslau, October 19, 1908, as the first of a series
of lectures on the four great founders of the world-religions. Translated from
the German by Lydia G. Robinson.

l62 THE MONIST.

personages who appeared to their contemporaries as proph-
ets and apostles of God, who had himself taken possession
of them and had become a living power within them.

Among these the founders of religion naturally stand
in the first rank. They created something entirely new
and consciously strove to lead their contemporaries on new
religious paths and to bring them a divine truth which
had previously been hidden from them. And as founders
of world religions, Moses, Buddha, Mohammed and Jesus
stand in the first rank.

The earliest of them is Moses. To him we stand in
a very different relation from that in which we stand to
Buddha or Mohammed. The latter men do not concern
us directly and at best can have for us only a scientific ob-
jective interest. We are much more likely to see in them
enemies and opponents of our Christian religion, its most
dangerous rivals in the competition for the spiritual do-
minion of the world, while Moses and Jesus are in our
minds inseparably connected. In Moses we see a direct
predecessor of Jesus, — the point of departure of the great
religious movement which has found its historical con-
clusion and spiritual perfection in Jesus. Sufficient reason
to devote to this man our particular attention, and indeed
our task of sketching him and his work is an especially
fascinating and alluring one which will yield a rich rewrard.

Unfortunately, however, the undertaking is at the
same time a very difficult one, and I must express myself
with regard to it openly and without reservation. The
difficulty lies in the nature of the sources at our command.
Buddha and Mohammed stand before us in the full light
of history in spite of the great amount of legendary mate-
rial which attaches to their personalities. We can not say
the same of Moses. But have we not the five books of
Moses? Could we wish more or better material? It is
only the German Bible that knows anything of the "Five

MOSES. 163

Books of Moses." The Hebrew, Greek, Latin and even
the English Bibles do not ascribe these books expressly
and directly to Moses. And in the last century and a half,
science has worked so vigorously and persistently on just
this so-called Pentateuch, that we are justified in speaking
here of positive results.

The Pentateuch originated from the combination of
various original documents, the oldest of which is perhaps
half a millennium later than Moses, so that accordingly
the earliest narratives of Moses and accounts of his work
which have come down to us are further removed from
him in time than we to-day are from Luther. But the
Pentateuch, to be sure, contains not only narratives, but
laws as well. Is it not possible that one or another of these
legal constituents proceeded from Moses himself ? In his-
torical tradition he is, of course, the law-giver par excel-
lence \ When it comes to an estimate of Moses's value for
the history of religion, I must express myself frankly and
honestly and must also substantiate statements which will
probably seem most surprising to many of my readers.

It is my firm conviction that the science of Old Testa-
ment criticism of the last generation not only asserts but
proves — proves positively, that the great coherent priestly
code of the Pentateuch as it has found its characteristic
stamp in the code of the tabernacle and in the so-called
third book of Moses (Leviticus), is quite late, and does
not belong at the beginning of the development as its foun-
dation, but at the end as its culmination. That the coherent
code presented in the so-called fifth book of Moses (Deute-
ronomy) originated in the seventh century was proved by
De Wette as early as 1805, and this knowledge has become
the common property of Old Testament science. We may
leave out of consideration the three poetical pieces ascribed
to Moses, his Song (Deut. xxxii. 1-43), his Blessing (Deut.
xxxiii), and his Prayer (Psalm xc). Hence there are

164 THE MONIST.

only a few pieces of legal import which come seriously
into question. These are the so-called Book of the Cov-
enant (Exodus xxi-xxiii) and the Decalogue, or Deca-
logues, and both are to be found in the earliest original
documents.

The Book of the Covenant is old beyond any doubt. It
is the earliest attempt in Israel at a detailed formulation
of law, and it has acquired a particular significance by the
fact that it is this very code which shows most striking
parallels to the famous codex, found in 1902, of the Baby-
lonian king Hammurabi who dates back almost a thousand
years earlier than Moses. But each closer investigation
of the Book of the Covenant makes it more impossible to
assume that Moses himself was its author. The work and
legislation of Moses were intended for nomadic hordes
which were yet to become a nation for the first time, and
in whom we may not assume a settled state of civilization
founded on agriculture. The whole legislation of the Cov-
enant, however, is calculated for a settled agricultural
population, to some extent also engaged in commerce and
living under a sort of juridical administration. In the
first place, the very detailed regulations about goring cattle
are significant. In the Semitic Orient, cattle never and
nowhere belong to nomad tribes but are exclusively domes-
tic and farm animals ; Semitic nomads raise only sheep and
goats. Laws like those regarding injuries to field and
vineyards from unrestrained cattle or the ravages of fire,
or that fields, vineyards and olive groves should not be
tilled the seventh year but should be left to the poor, have
not Sinai for a background or the deserts of Kadesh, but
the fertile land of Palestine. Then, too, when a regulation
requires that the doer of a bodily injury which does not
prove fatal must pay the injured one for the time he is bed-
ridden, and also the cost of his recovery, we have a con-
dition of society in which the daily wage can be calculated

MOSES. 165

in money, and in which professional physicians practise
for money, which could never be the social condition of a
nomad people even if it were no longer purely nomad but
had already advanced to the most primitive agricultural
stages. The Book of the Covenant was certainly drawn
up at a comparatively early date. In it we can see the
codification of customs in practice in the time of the ear-
liest kings in the manner of the oldest German Weis-
thiimer; but Moses can not have given his contemporaries
such a legislation.

We now come to the Decalogue, the Ten Command-
ments, in which we see the work which belongs peculiarly
to Moses, and which occurs first to our minds when the
name of Moses is mentioned. Because of the importance
of the matter, I must here enter more into detail. It is
first of all noteworthy that this Decalogue has left behind
no traces whatever in the early and oldest literature. The
earliest passage to be taken into account is in Hosea who
says of his contemporaries that they swear, lie, kill, steal
and commit adultery (Hosea iv. 2). But the prophet uses
other words than those in the Decalogue, and furthermore
the order of the sins is entirely different, so that this pas-
sage at least need not have reference to the Decalogue.

Moreover, it is well known that the Decalogue occurs
twice in the Pentateuch in different forms (Exodus xx
and Deut. v). The first, for instance, alleges as a reason
for resting on the Sabbath, the rest of God on the seventh
day after the six days employed in creating the world ; the
other, consideration for servants, in order that thy man-
servant and thy maidservant may rest as well as thou
(Deut. v. 14). Of course this difficulty is not insurmount-
able, for on two stone tablets we must think of the ten
commandments as formulated in lapidary briefness, per-
haps as follows:

"Thou shalt have none other gods before me.

1 66 THE MONIST.

"Thou shalt not make thee any image or any likeness.

"Thou shalt not misuse the name of God.

"Thou shalt keep the Sabbath holy.

"Thou shalt honor father and mother."

But the gravest essential considerations arise against
the possibility that even such a nucleus has come down
directly from Moses. The Sabbath command and the im-
age prohibition contain insurmountable difficulties. The
Biblical celebration of the Sabbath consists everywhere in
rest and cessation from labor. It has therefore been desig-
nated as a rest offering. But as a matter of fact, such a
cessation from work is actually possible only for agricul-
turists and never for nomads; for the work which the
nomad has to perform can not be set aside at will. The
cattle must be fed and watered, gathered together and
milked on Sunday or holiday as well as on a workday. To
attest this fact I will call no less a witness than Jesus, who
says in the Gospel of Luke (xiii. 15): "Thou hypocrite,
doth not each one of you on the sabbath loose his ox or his
ass from the stall, and lead him away to watering?" in
which the impossibility of carrying out the Sabbath com-
mand for the stock raiser is directly admitted. It is indirectly
admitted in the fact that Mohammed, who otherwise bor-
rowed everything from Judaism, did not adopt the Sabbath,
because, opportunist that he was, he said to himself that
the institution was not suited to his Arabians. In its Bib-
lical sense the Sabbath command is absolutely impossible
as a fundamental law of a nomadic people. At the most
Moses may have arranged some sort of a religious cele-
bration for every seventh day. The suggestion which has
been lately raised that the Sabbath in ancient Israel did
not mean the seventh day and a rest day for every week,
but the full moon in opposition to the new moon would
overcome this objection, but its foundation is very insecure
and its maintenance would develop immense difficulties.

MOSES. 167

In the same way, facts, — undeniable historical facts, —
make it impossible to adhere to the image prohibition as
Mosaic and as a fundamental command of the religion of
Israel. In Dan, where as in Bethel calf worship was car-
ried on officially, which later the prophets struggled against
and denounced, a race of priests officiated, which were
descended from a grandson of the founder Moses; hence
a direct descendant of Moses became the official priest of
the Golden Calf! Flow could that be possible when every
child of Israel (modernly speaking) in the Sunday school
must know that Moses pronounced as his second command-
ment for Israel, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any
graven image or any likeness" ? Yes, a notorious idol has
even been traced back in all naivete to Moses himself. In
the temple at Jerusalem at the time of the prophet Isaiah
there was still a brazen serpent to which the Children of
Israel offered sacrifices. Therefore it was not merely an
historical relic from the years in the wilderness, but a
representation of deity, which Moses was said to have
wrought, and which King Hezekiah caused to be broken
in pieces (2 Kings xviii. 4). These are undeniable facts
reported in the Old Testament itself.

Further we must consider that we have no polemic from
Elijah and Elisha against the calves of Dan and Bethel.
If they showed zeal for the God of Israel against the Tyr-
ian Baal, they also showed zeal for the golden calves as
the official form at that time of the worship of God in the
kingdom of Israel. Even the prophet Amos who appeared
in the midst of Bethel and occupied himself in great detail
with the cult there, finds no word of complaint for the
Golden Calf there. Hosea who stigmatized that ancient
and revered symbol by the disrespectful expression, "calf,"
was the first to engage in polemics against this and every
image and symbolical kind of worship, but simply from rea-
sons of good sense, and without any implication that it

168 THE MONIST.

was a great sin which Moses had already forbidden. All
of this would be absolutely impossible if the Decalogue
of Exodus xx had been known to every Israelite as a funda-
mental command of the religion of Moses and was gen-
erally current as such. But if two of the ten command-
ments are essentially untenable then the whole becomes
untenable.

And to make the question still more involved, we have
a second Decalogue in Exodus, an entirely different one
which likewise was given to Moses on Sinai and reads as
follows: (Exodus xxxiv. 14-26):

"Thou shalt worship no other god. . . .

"Thou shalt make thee no molten gods.

"The feast of unleavened bread shalt thou keep. . . .

"Every firstling is mine

"Thou shalt observe the feast of weeks ....

"Thou shalt observe the feast of ingathering. . . .

"Thou shalt not offer the blood of my sacrifice with
leaven ;

"The fat of my sacrifice shall not remain until the
morning.

"The first of the firstfruits of thy land thou shalt bring...

"Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother's milk."

These are the ten commandments on the basis of which,
according to the oldest narrators, the so-called Yahvists,
the covenant on Sinai was confirmed. In spite of the fact
that the two first commandments are essentially identical,
it is quite impossible to refer both Decalogues to one orig-
inal form. This Decalogue of the Yahvist redaction char-
acteristically contains no ethical prescriptions whatever ex-
cept such as pertain to the religious service; and accord-
ingly it finds the essence of religion in worship. Our own
familiar Decalogue bears the relation to this one that Amos
bears to his contemporaries.

We must also grant that the tradition that Moses had

MOSES. 169

made the covenant of Sinai on the basis of ten command-
ments is very old, but the commandments themselves are
missing ; for even the Decalogue of Ex. xxxiv can not have
been formulated by Moses since it also rests upon the
assumption of agriculture and festivals founded upon agri-
cultural customs, — and if we are honest Moses loses noth-
ing by our refusing to ascribe to him this Decalogue. If
he had actually established the religion of Israel upon this
foundation he would not belong to the greatest religious
heroes of mankind.

Accordingly, then, the result of our investigation, which
may perhaps seem destructive, is that we have no docu-
ments or authentic sayings of Moses, likewise no accounts
of him which are even approximately contemporary. Under
such circumstances can we dare after all to give a history
of Moses and his work? But softly! If we have no his-
torical documents in the usual sense we still have docu-
ments from Moses in a higher sense, not written on crum-
bling stone or moldering parchment, but in living men,
as we might say with the Apostle Paul (2 Cor. iii. 3), "Not
with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God ; not in tables
of stone but in fleshy tables of the heart."

Upon the character and history of the people of Israel
his work has left such lasting and unmistakable traces, and
tradition has retained for us such a great number of highly
significant unimpeachable facts that we need be in no doubt.
To be sure, documents of this kind, not written with ink,
are not always easy to read, and I shall surely not be mis-
understood if I often express myself with a certain hesi-
tation ; but we shall and can enter upon our task comforted,
— yes, I flatter myself, that my readers will feel even espe-
cial confidence in a representation of the work of Moses
given from a standpoint which they will probably consider
very radical, because they have the impression that the
author has carefully guarded himself from every incidental

I7O THE MONIST.

illusion and has avoided every possible source of error in
every way practicable.

There is an additional point which lightens our task
with regard to Moses ; and that is the peculiar double posi-
tion which he shares with Mohammed only of all the great
founders of religions, namely that his is a personality be-
longing to profane history as well as to the history of reli-
gion ; he not only founded the Israelitish religion but he also
created the Israelitish nation. In his own mind the two
sides of his work could not be separated, for in the role of
prophet he exercised his political activity, as we would
call it, in the name of his God as His representative
with a definite mission; of this tradition leaves us in no
doubt, and in this particular it has certainly drawn his
likeness with great accuracy. But we can consider his-
torical facts apart from their religious character and mo-
tives, and it is easier to gain a picture of historical than of
religious facts. For instance, we can establish the histor-
ical facts of the crusades without regard to the religious
character and the religious roots of the movement. If we do
so we shall obtain only a one-sided picture of them, nor can
we have a complete and accurate picture until we have
established these historical facts objectively. According
to my firm conviction it is also possible to establish the his-
torical facts of the life and work of Moses objectively, and
this must be our first task.

In the pages of profane history Moses stands before our
eyes as the liberator of his people from Egyptian bondage
and as their leader and ruler in peace and war. The Bib-
lical accounts with regard to the fate of the fathers of
Israel in pre-Mosaic times permit of the sharpest critique
and become the more brilliantly verified according as they
are the more exactly investigated and observed. I con-
sider it as proven that Ramses II, the Sesostris of the
Greeks, whose mummy was found a number of years ago,

MOSES. 171

was the Pharaoh of the oppression, and his son and suc-
cessor, Merenptah, the Pharaoh of the Exodus. In Moses,
the hero and leader of this expedition, tradition sees a
Hebrew of the tribe of Levi. And just this fact is un-
questionable because it alone offers us the key to one of the
most puzzling phenomena in the history of Israel.

It is remarkable that the tribe of Levi appears in two
forms which have nothing in common except the name.
The earliest tradition describes it as a ruthless and violent
secular tribe, who were cursed and condemned to destruc-
tion by the patriarch because of a bloody crime, and were
actually destroyed. In the later tradition the Levites ap-
pear as a purely spiritual race of priests, who from the
beginning were set aside for the service of God. The event
which resulted in the overthrow of the secular tribe of Levi
can have taken place only when Israel came into possession
of Palestine, that is to say, in the time after Moses. This
event was the treacherous and barbarous capture of the
city of Shechem, wrhich brought no blessing to the wicked
tribe and its accomplice, Simeon. They succumbed to the
revenge of the Canaanites when Israel solemnly separated
from them and left them to expiate their burden of sin
alone. That tradition should of its own accord have made
Moses out to be a member of this cursed tribe is simply
unthinkable, whereas if he were really a Levite the riddle
is easily solved. Those portions of the tribe of Levi which
belonged to the family of Moses and which were very
closely connected with him and had placed themselves at
his disposal, took of course no part in the criminal under-
taking of the rest and so were not entangled in the catas-
trophe in which it resulted. Thus it happened in fact that
only the priestly families remained, and these could hardly
have the ambition to reestablish themselves as a secular
tribe.

This Hebrew of the tribe of Levi, however, found access,

THE MONIST.

by a happy chance to the civilization and culture of Egypt,
and was educated entirely as an Egyptian. It is certain
that his name cannot be accounted for by Semitic deriva-
tion, whereas in the form Mesu it was a purely Egyptian
name, which can be authentically proved to have been gen-
erally current at that time. Then too, Pinehas, a tradi-
tional name in the family of Moses, which we can not trace
back to any Semitic root, is a purely Egyptian Penehesu,
which likewise may be authentically proved. According
to the Biblical narrative, Pharaoh's daughter found the
child Moses in the Nile under circumstances familiar to us
all, and adopted him as her son. The non-Biblical accounts
give her name as Termuthis, or Merris, and in fact we
can point out the two names Tmer-en-mut and Meri among
the female members of the family of Ramses II.

The Biblical account touches but lightly on the child-
hood and youth of Moses. It presents him to us at the
first as a man and the champion of his people. This defi-
ciency too has been supplied for us by non-Biblical litera-
ture. According to Josephus the Egyptian priests de-
manded his death when he was first brought before Pha-
raoh, because a prophecy said that this boy would one day
bring great evil to Egypt; but his foster mother protected
him and bestowed upon him a careful education.

When Moses grew up, Egypt was invaded by the Ethi-
opians, whom no one had been able to withstand. Then
according to the instruction of an oracle Moses was placed
at the head of an Egyptian army and performed his task
with wonderful intelligence and power, won victory after
victory, and finally besieged the Ethiopians in their capital
city, Meroe. There the Ethiopian princess, Tharbis, fell
in love with him and on his promise to marry her surren-
dered to him the capital of the enemy, whereupon he re-
turned in triumph to Egypt. We smile over such stories,
but the fact remains authentically established that at the

MOSES. 173

end of the reign of Ramses II and at the beginning of that of
Merenptah a certain Mesu was the Egyptian viceroy of
Ethiopia, "Prince of Kush," as he was officially styled.
Even in the Bible itself we have a very remarkable and
puzzling passage where Miriam and Aaron make accusa-
tions against Moses on account of an Ethiopian wife he
had taken (Num. xii. i). In any case the peculiar double
position of Moses, Hebrew by birth but Egyptian by edu-
cation, is to be looked upon as historical, and in this respect
we are involuntarily reminded of Arminius, the Teutonic
Hermann the Cheruscan, who likewise entered into Roman
service and arose to the dignity of a Roman knight, but
only in order to learn from the Romans how he might free
his people from their yoke. The inclination of his heart
led Moses likewise to his people; he would rather be the
brother of these despised slaves than live in the enjoyment
of Egyptian luxury and splendor. If Moses had been born
an Egyptian what could have induced him to place himself
at the head of the Israelites with whom he could not even
make himself understood because of the essential difference
between their languages ? Perhaps pity for the oppressed,
who according to the Egyptian view were no better than
the cattle which they herded ? Or injured ambition because
he did not rise rapidly enough in his career and so would
rather be the first among the despised foreigners than to
be second among the Egyptians ? Neither can Moses have
been a member of the Semitic tribes who led a nomad life
around Sinai and with whom tradition has brought him
in closest connection. The desert is egoistic. To but few
does it give a scanty sustenance, so that every tribe would
think well before inviting strangers to the table at which
they themselves could hardly be satisfied even if they would
have won additional strength and influence by such an in-
crease in their numbers. In this point too the tradition

174 THE MONIST.

holds its own and every attempt to depart from it causes
only entanglement in unsolvable difficulties.

But Moses was above all a founder of religion and
therefore it becomes of very particular interest and the
highest possible value for us to familiarize ourselves with
the religious environment in which he developed. That
the careful Egyptian education which fell to his lot was
also a religious education, may be taken for granted. And
the esoteric religion at least of the Egypt of that day stood
upon a very high plane. Its belief was centered in a life
beyond. The most important witness of the religious litera-
ture of Egypt is the so-called Book of the Dead which
treats of the fate of the soul after death. When the soul
escapes the fetters of the body it comes before the judg-
ment of the dead where forty-two judges examine its con-
duct, each with regard to some one particular sin. If these
judges declare the soul to be pure it enters into the realm
of light, it becomes God once more and returns to God
from whom it came. Especially have the mysteries of
Osiris this cycle for their object, and we know definitely
that in the bosom of the Egyptian priesthood monotheistic
speculations were customary, or those with a tendency
towards monotheism. To be sure these speculations never
led to a practical religious monotheism but at most to a
philosophical pantheism. Heliopolis, the Biblical On, had
always been one of the main centers of the mysteries of
Osiris ; and yet it must arouse our attention when an Egyp-
tian tradition, handed down to us from Manethos, says that
Moses came from the circle of the Heliopolitan priesthood
of Osiris, and when Biblical tradition places Joseph in
direct connection with them, since Pharaoh gives him to
wife Asenath, the daughter of Poti-phera, priest of On
(Gen. xli. 45).

The attempt had even been made in Egypt once before
to establish monotheism practically. Not through the

MOSES. 175

priests, it must be noted, but on the part of the state.
Amenhotep IV, the last direct scion of the renowned i8th
dynasty, the so-called "heretic king," undertook to estab-
lish by the power of government the worship of one God
whom he saw incarnate in the solar disk aten, hence a solar
monotheism, beside which all other cults were to be pro-
hibited. That this remarkable man (who also took a fancy
to have himself and his family portrayed in a repulsively
ugly fashion), did not attain his purpose, and that the
heresy of the heretic king died with him, may be taken
for granted. Posterity has condemned him to non-existence,
and his name was effaced from all inscriptions, but his
attempt remains noteworthy for the history of religion,
and there is no doubt but that Moses knew of these things
which took place perhaps a hundred years before his time.
Thus by no means did he lack religious stimulation in
Egypt.

Furthermore his must have been a pronouncedly re-
ligious nature, an innate religious genius, and with regard
to this we must take into consideration certain influences
of his own people. According to Biblical tradition the
work of Moses did not fall from heaven but had its point
of contact in his own nation and found a prepared ground ;
neither did the religious history of Israel originate with
Moses, but had its beginnings in an earlier time, closely
connected with the person of the patriarch Abraham. In
this important point too, it is my firm conviction that the
Biblical tradition is a perfectly correct; namely, that we
must assume the patriarchs of the people of Israel to have
had before Moses a pronounced religious character which
raised them above related tribes and which was a spiritual
power ever against the Egyptians.

The decisive moment in Moses's entire life was during
his sojourn among the Midianites in the wilderness of
Sinai. There he had become the son-in-law of a Midianite

176 THE MONIST.

priest to whom even the Israelitish tradition assigns a
certain share in the work of Moses. Even the natives of
this Sinai neighborhood we must not imagine as entirely,
or even half, wild bushmen. On the contrary, Arabia was
the center of an ancient and high civilization, although
whether it really reached back to the times of Moses may
well be questioned. But at least the Arabian borderlands
were under the influence of Egyptian and Babylonian civili-
zation and religious movements, since it is well known that
Sinai bears the name of the ancient Babylonian moon-God.
Sin. Accordingly the religious soil is here no fallow land.
The Biblical tradition itself says distinctly that the new
name Yahveh, by which Moses designated the God of their
fathers, originated from Sinai and was derived from there,
that even before Moses a god Yahveh was worshiped on
Sinai.

Here on Sinai took place the event which was for Moses
what John's baptism in the Jordan was for Jesus, and the
day of Damascus for the Apostle Paul ; the Biblical account
describes it as the theophany of the burning bush (Exodus
iii). We can not explain it nor analyze it but must accept
it as a fact — as the phenomena of the religious life do not
upon the whole admit of demonstration and mock every
rational explanation, but nevertheless are realities. Here
God himself laid hold upon him and took possession of him.
From this moment he knew himself to be called of God as
the saviour of his people and that he must plan his entire
future life in the service of this God. He hastened to
Egypt in order to call his people to freedom in the name
of the God of their fathers who had appeared to him on
Sinai. And here too the religious motive glimmers plainly
through the oldest account, for they are to travel in the
wilderness in order to celebrate there a great festival for
their God. And the bold enterprise succeeded. Even in
the most supreme extremity and in the greatest dangers

MOSES. 177

in the face of the despairing and discouraged people Moses
clung to the God who had called him, and his faith was not
to be shaken. There, as the Biblical account states briefly
and strikingly, Israel saw the powerful hand of Yahveh
which he had shown to the Egyptians. Then the people
feared the Lord and believed the Lord and his servant
Moses (Ex. xiv. 31). This triumphant moment made
Israel into a nation and Israel never forgot it. Here Israel
recognized the God of their fathers who with a strong
hand and an outstretched arm had delivered his people and
had led them forth out of the house of bondage, out of the
land of Egypt. Here too we have a matter of fact to rec-
ognize ; the deliverance from Egyptian bondage must have
been effected by an extraordinary event in which those who
experienced it could see nothing but the direct personal
intervention of God himself.

At this point, very involved questions begin to arise
for the historian which I will at least indicate briefly. It
is well known that the mountain where the law was given
to Moses is sometimes called Sinai and sometimes Horeb.
Are these only two different names or do they indicate two
different mountains? And where may this Sinai, or Horeb,
be found? Besides it is still maintained on reasons not to
be despised, that the oldest narrative makes no mention
whatever of this digression by way of Sinai, but had the
people of Israel from the beginning wander directly to
Kadesh. These are questions which may never be an-
swered with certainty and which need not occupy us here
any further. With Kadesh, surnamed Kadesh Barnea in
distinction from other places of the same name and to-day
the oasis Ain Qudes at the southwest extremity of the
Plateau of Azazime, we have absolutely firm ground be-
neath our feet. Kadesh is pointed out by tradition so con-
sistently and so positively as the stopping place of Israel
after the Exodus and as the scene of Moses's organizing

178 THE MONIST.

and administrative activity, that any doubt of this fact
would only draw a smile from a methodically trained his-
torian. Now we shall advance to the investigation of his
work.

However, there are two methodological considerations
to be disposed of first. The man who wishes to influence
his times and to direct them into new paths, must stand
above them. Therefore even when we have become ac-
quainted with the religious plane of his time we have not
yet familiarized ourselves with his personal religious con-
sciousness, for genius is an absolutely incommensurable
quantity, and so likewise is religious genius. Furthermore
it is a matter of experience that after religious movements
have entered into life they usually forfeit their original
freshness and purity so that they become secularized and
ossified. Supposing that we did not have the four gospels,
or that Luther's writings were lost, who would be able to
construct the Gospel of Jesus in its entire purity and splen-
dor from the faith and life of the Christian communities
of the middle of the 5th century? Or who, by considering
the condition of the Lutheran Church at the time of the
Protestant scholasticism or the writings of a Calovius and
Quenstedt, could imagine that Luther had composed such
a precious booklet as his "Freedom of the Christian"?
This privilege, however, we must grant also to Moses, and
the more since we possess actually no documents by him or
about him. Yes, even the fact that we can not positively
prove the existence of definite laws or even positively prove
their non-existence proves nothing against Moses. As
Jesus said to his disciples (John xvi. 12) : "I have yet
many things to say unto you, but ye can not bear them
now," so Moses too may have thought, and I am firmly
convinced that such is the fact. I might make the state-
ment that Moses shows himself to be a genius in pedagogy
since he would not take the second step before the first, and

MOSES. 179

promoted his work most emphatically by that which he
did not give his people. He gave them no superfluous
ballast but only what they could grasp and what they
needed; not philosophical speculations, nor dogmatic in-
struction, but life, the most vital life, religious life, moral
life.

I will select two important points for the explanation
of what I mean by the two methodological considerations.
It may have offended many of my readers when I was
obliged to declare that Moses could not have enacted a law
prohibiting images and have made it a foundation stone
of his religion; but does this prove, or do I mean by it to
say, that Moses was a worshiper of images and thought it
right and praiseworthy to worship God in images? The
only object relating to worship which we can refer back
to him with certainty is the holy Ark, a pure symbol which
never misled the people to any idolatrous misuse; and at
the same time the tribes and races in the midst of which
Israel lived at the time of Moses were not idol worshipers
in this sense, but they too had only religious symbols; so
that Moses had no practical occasion for such a command,
whereas he himself acted according to this knowledge, and
his work lay entirely in this direction.

Now for the chief central question with regard to mono-
theism. That Israel did not possess a pure, clearly con-
ceived monotheism for centuries after Moses, that in the
eyes of Israel Yahveh was not the one God in heaven and
upon earth, but that they saw realities also in the other
gods, is absolutely certain. But what does this prove in
regard to Moses? Can not Moses personally have held
to a pure monotheism ? Who will decide a priori the point
beyond which genius may not pass, and must Moses have
confessed a religious perception inferior to that of the
author of the ancient narrative of paradise and the fall of
man, whose monotheism indeed leaves nothing to be de-

l8o THE MONIST.

sired ? Could not Moses be content with what he actually
accomplished, to bid Israel to worship its own God only
and to forbid it to serve any other God besides ? If Israel
was actually convinced that it had only its one God to serve,
who laid claim upon it as his possession alone, and wished
to be everything to it, that would be practically much more
valuable than any theoretical doctrine about the nature of
God, and Moses could confidently leave the rest to God and
time.

So much is made nowadays of monotheistic currents
in the religions of ancient civilizations. But however great
we may assume the influence of the Egyptian esoteric doc-
trine upon Moses to have been, even if a pure monotheism
was taught in these mysteries, still to Moses belongs the
enormous merit that what was whispered about among
the initiated in Egypt was now preached from the house
tops and made useful to humanity, and especially that he
had drawn the religious consequences therefrom. These
same Egyptian priests who in their esoteric teachings gave
themselves up to the most profound speculations, prayed
in public with the most earnest air of solemnity to cats and
ibises, crocodiles and the "holy ox" as Theodore Momm-
sen translates the "Apis," and rendered to them divine
honors; but a purely theoretical monotheism which exists
in a brotherly fashion side by side with the grossest prac-
tical idolatry, is religiously not worth a farthing. In this
respect Moses accomplished a sweeping reform and per-
formed a complete task: such a double entry method of
book-keeping was impossible in the religion of Moses. In
all religions there have been monotheistic tendencies, cur-
rents and attempts, but only in the religion of Israel had
monotheism become a power, and indeed a power deter-
mining the entire religion ; and this is the work and merit
of Moses. Nor did he hesitate to shed blood, as is shown
by that remarkable story attested by the oldest tradition,

MOSES. l8l

in which he enlisted the tribe of Levi to aid in putting
down a religious rebellion (Exodus xxxii. 26 ff., compare
Deuteronomy xxxiii. 8 f.) When Saul caused all the wiz-
ards and those who had familiar spirits to be hunted out
and executed (i Samuel xxviii. 3 and 9), he proceeded
entirely in the spirit of the zealous God of Moses who per-
mitted none other to rule beside himself. And this enor-
mous energy which supplanted all rivals making it impos-
sible for them to exist side by side with himself, the God
of Moses manifested also in the spiritual realm. Israel is
the only nation of which we have knowledge, that has
never had a mythology, that never differentiated divinity
according to sex — the concept "goddess" is so absolutely
inconceivable to the Israelites that the Hebrew language
never attempted to form the word "goddess." This is a
miracle performed by Moses which is greater and more in-
comprehensible than the greatest and most incomprehen-
sible which tradition has ascribed to him. A man who
has exercised such an enormous influence on the entire
thought and sensibility of his people and has modelled it
so completely according to his own personal higher knowl-
edge, such a one truly belongs to the greatest spiritual
heroes of humanity.

We have repeatedly called attention to the fact that
Moses aimed first of all to awaken religious life. Espe-
cially significant for this and of definitive importance for all
later time is the form of his religious foundation. Yahveh
alone Israel's God, and Israel Yahveh's people, — this is per-
haps the shortest formula to which we can reduce the funda-
mental idea of Moses. But how came this relation to exist ?
All tradition unites in agreeing that in its form the peculiar
establishment of the religion of Israel consisted of a cov-
enant between Yahveh and Israel, made through the inter-
vention of Moses. By this means alone was this relation
lifted out of the realm of nature into that of the moral

l82 THE MONIST.

decision of the will. This covenant was grounded upon
experience of the power of Yahveh. He had made real
that which appeared impossible, had freed Israel from the
bondage of Egypt, had therefore shown himself more
mightly than even powerful Egypt with all its many gods,
and had also given further proof of his power to help.
So the God to whom Israel in this covenant had vowed
herself by a free act of will, was not an abstraction, not
an unyielding destiny but the personal living God of his-
tory, the relation to him was a personal ethical relation
which as it was entered upon voluntarily could also be
broken voluntarily. Whether Moses himself had already
drawn this conclusion, and had it in mind, we know not.
Later it gave the prophets a basis for their ethical preach-
ing and their deepening of the religious relation.

That this relation of Israel to Yahveh was not purely
theoretical but also manifested itself in a practical man-
ner may be taken for granted. Its official manifestation,
so to speak, was to be found in the religious worship.
That Moses had regulated the religious service and stan-
dards for the worship of Yahveh is a matter of course. To
be sure we can not reconstruct exactly this Mosaic order of
service in particulars, but we must assume that Moses
inspired a new spirit into the worship which made it pos-
sible for it to keep the most important heathen abomina-
tions at a distance. Among the nations in the vicinity of
Israel the customs of infant sacrifice and religious un-
chastity prevailed. These were proscribed by the religion
of Israel and wherever they crept in were recognized at
once as poison drops foreign to its blood.

Furthermore, the relation of Israel to Yahveh mani-
fested itself in a moral life, according to the requirements
of this God. Here we have the peculiar center of the ac-
tivity of Moses whom tradition describes before all as the
judge and organizer of his people. And right here has

MOSES. 183

the consequence of his activity been visible and significant.
In fact Israel stood far higher morally than the neighbor-
ing peoples. It must have had a particularly pronounced
sense of right and wrong, and the sphere of morals in a
most special sense was peculiarly Israel's honor and re-
nown. From the beginning Israel had abhorred unchas-
tity in a manner that we do not find to be the case with
other Semites. All of this is due to Moses, who silently
and unobtrusively organized his people in Kadesh, moral-
izing, guiding, and sowing noble seeds, and who educated
them religiously in the sense and spirit of the Decalogue,
even if he did not himself formulate it, and so made it
possible for them to become the nation of religion and in
the course of centuries to bring forth the greatest of all.

It is most probable that Moses also died in Kadesh.
According to all indications Israel's stop there must have
been a pretty long one, and it is an essential feature of the
Israelitish tradition that neither Moses nor any of those
who came out of Egypt was permitted to tread the prom-
ised land ; and this is of greater significance when we con-
sider that we are dealing with a distance which under nor-
mal conditions could have been easily passed in a fortnight.
Of special importance for this question, however, is the
explicit statement that nobody knows where Moses's grave
is "unto this day" (Deut. xxxiv. 6). When we consider
what an important part the grave, and especially the grave
of a hero, played in the conception of ancient Israel, we
must declare it to be absolutely unthinkable that the grave
of Moses should have remained unknown if he had died
and had found his last resting place in a spot which Israel
considered as belonging to its domain. But we must look
upon this circumstance too as providential, for if the grave
of Moses had been known, there is no doubt but a personal
cult would have been connected with it which might have

184 THE MONIST.

had evil consequences for the religion he had founded.
This was not to be. He was to live on only in his work.

There is a beautiful Jewish legend about the death of
Moses. It is possible to translate the fifth verse in the last
chapter of Deuteronomy relating to his death, "So Moses,
the servant of the Lord, died there at the mouth of Yah-
veh." Therefore the Jewish legend tells how in the last
hour of Moses's life God fulfilled his ardent wish to behold
His face, which in life He was obliged to refuse him (Ex.
xxxiii. 18-23) and so Moses died at the mouth of God who
by a kiss took to Himself the soul of his faithful and trusted
servant. A deep meaning lies in this story, for verily did
Moses receive the consecration kiss of deity. Whoso recog-
nizes in Jesus Christ the end and turning point in the history
of humanity must also confess that before him no greater
mortal trod this earth, and that to no second mortal does
humanity owe more than to Moses, the man of God. The
foundation of what in Jesus Christ has found its conclusion
and its perfection, was laid by Moses, since he was the first
to give to the world clearly and consciously as the founda-
tion and basic principle of all religious life, the faith in
the one, living, personal, holy God.

C. H. CORNILL.

BRESLAU. GERMANY.

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANI-

SHADS.

A GOOD many readers make the acquaintance of the
Upanishads in the two volumes which Prof. Max
M tiller contributed to the now world-famous Sacred Books
of the East, the first being the opening volume of that long
and wonderful series. It is, therefore, to some degree a
matter of regret that Prof. Max Miiller decided to begin
his work of translation just where he did, namely, with
the Chhandogya Upanishad ; for it happens that the open-
ing passages of that wonderful and complex tract are oc-
cupied with a very interesting, but at the same time very
confusing and prolix disquisition, which must be prac-
tically meaningless to many readers, and which must give
a rather misleading and discouraging view of the whole
content of the Upanishads.

One may, perhaps, suppose that the Upanishads could
be compared to some of those minerals which one sees in
our museums, where bright and beautifully formed crys-
tals are embedded in dull, unattractive matrix of quite
different nature, and that this opening passage of the
Chhandogya is a part of the matrix. Perhaps it may be
possible to cut away the matrix, and rearrange the crystals,
now revealed as precious gems, in some more attractive
order. And a part of the matrix which may, perhaps,
have to be set aside, is the Brahmanical view that the
Upanishads, in their central and essential material, have
a close connection with the Four Vedas, or with the Vedic

l86 THE MONIST.

schools whose names are now embedded in the titles of
some of the Upanishads. But this part of the question
requires fuller study.

The central and essential element of the Upanishads
is to be found, I think, in a group of little dramas, or
dramatic fragments, which one is tempted to call Dramas
of the Mysteries, both because many of them expressly and
explicitly set forth a secret or esoteric teaching, and be-
cause, as short dramas intended to reveal spiritual truth,
they bear some resemblance to the Mystery Plays of our
own Middle Ages. In fact, the dramatizing instinct is as
conspicuous in most of the Upanishads as it is, let us say,
in the parable of the good Samaritan, or the Pharisee and
the Publican. And we shall get a clear view of a fascin-
ating, profound and very attractive body of literature, if
we take the dramatic fragments of the Upanishads and
study them apart from their setting, which seems in so
many cases like the matrix surrounding precious stones,
and in some cases mere rubbish, the accretion of ages of
uncritical and rather superstitious study.

Fundamental for a right understanding of the dra-
matic pieces in the Upanishads, is, I think, a very remark-
able drama which occurs, with almost verbal identity, in
the two longest Upanishads, the Brihad Aranyaka Upani-
shad, and the Chhandogya Upanishad. I shall try to
translate the version in the Brihad Aranyaka, and then
comment on certain very illuminating variations in the
Chhandogya version. As the Upanishads are now ar-
ranged, this story is found in the Sixth Adhyaya of the
Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad, beginning with the second
Brahmana. The story runs as follows:

Shvetaketu, verily, Aruna's grandson, came to the assembly of
the Panchala nation. He came to Pravahana, son of Jivala, who
was attended by his followers. Looking up at him, the king ad-
dressed him:

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 187

"Youth!" said he.

"Sir!" he replied.

"Hast them received the teaching from thy father?"

"Yes!" he said.

"Knowest thou how these beings going forth from this world,
proceed on different paths?"

"No!" said he.

"Knowest thou how they come to this world again?"

"No!" he said.

"Knowest thou how that world is not filled up by the many
going thither again and again?"

"No!" said he.

"Knowest thou at which sacrifice being sacrificed, the waters,
rising up, speak with human voice?"

"No!" said he.

"Knowest thou the approach of the path of the gods, or of the
path of the fathers, or by doing what they approach the path of the
gods or the path of the fathers : as the word of the Rishi has been
heard by us:

"Two ways I heard of, for mortals, the way of the fathers and

the way of the gods.

By them goes all that moves, between father heaven and mother
earth.' "

"No!" said he; "I do not know even one of them."

The king invited him to remain as his pupil. Not consenting
to remain, he ran away to his father. He said to him :

"Forsooth, Sir, thou didst say that we had received the teach-
ing!"

"How now, wise one?" he answered.

"This Rajanya fellow has asked me five questions, and I do
not know one of them !"

"What were they ?" said he.

"These!" said he, and he enumerated them.

His father said:

"Thou knowest us thus, dear, that whatever I know, I told it all
to thee ! But come, let us two set forth thither, and dwell as pupils
with the king!"

"Go yourself, Sir!" said he.

That descendant of Gotama went to where Pravahana, son of
Jivala was. To him offering a seat, the king caused water to be
offered. He made him the offering. To him the king said:

l88 THE MONIST.

"We give a wish to the worshipful descendant of the Gotamas."

He said:

"This wish is promised to me : the speech that thou didst speak
in the presence of the boy, tell me that!"

The king said :

"That, O descendant of the Gotamas, is among the wishes of
the gods. Say a wish of men !"

He said :

"It is well known ! There is store of gold, of cattle and horses,
of slave-girls and tapestries and robes! May the Master not be
niggardly toward us, in that which is great, infinite, illimitable !"

The king said: "This wish, descendant of the Gotamas, must
be sought according to rule."

"I offer myself as thy pupil !" said he. For with this word the
men of old betook them to a master. He therefore dwelt there,
thus becoming his disciple.

The king said to him :

"Therefore, O descendant of the Gotamas, be thou without re-
proach toward us, thou and thy forefathers: since this teaching
never before dwelt in any Brahman, but to thee I shall declare it,
for who has the right to refuse thee, speaking thus!"

So far, the prologue of the story. Before translating
the teaching of the king it may be well to make some com-
ments on what we have already recorded.

To begin with, it is evident that the Brahman boy
Shvetaketu did not well consider and ponder over the
questions that were put to him, for, with the exception
of the last, the group of questions imply their own an-
swers. Thus the first question, as to the diverging paths
on which beings proceed on going forth from this world
at death, is really answered by the fourth question. For
the diverging paths are the path of the gods and the path
of the fathers, by which goes all that moves between father
heaven and mother earth. In like manner the answer to
the question why the other world is not filled to overflow-
ing by the souls that go thither incessantly, is because

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 189

they come to this world again. Therefore we are here
concerned with the teaching of rebirth, or reincarnation.

As has already been said, there is another version of
this same story in the Upanishad which is next in length
to the Brihad Aranyaka, namely, in the Chhandogya Upa-
nishad. It is in the third and following khandas of the
fifth Adhyaya. There are certain verbal variations, as
for example samiti instead of parishad, for the "assembly"
of the Panchala nation. The order of the questions is not
exactly the same, and in the last question, instead of ask-
ing "at which sacrifice the waters arise, and speak with
human voice?" he asks: "Knowest thou how, at the fifth
sacrifice the waters arise," and so on. But the most im-
portant difference is in the words of the Rajanya to the
old Brahman, when he at last consents to tell him the an-
swers to the questions:

"As this teaching, O descendant of the Gotamas, goes
not to any Brahman before thee, but among all peoples
leadership was of the Kshatra," that is, of the Kshatriyas,
the men of the Rajanya race.

For there is much evidence to show that the difference
between the Brahman and the Rajanya was not merely
a difference in "caste," that is, in social position and func-
tion, but was in fact a difference in race, or in "color," as
the Sanskrit word varna, translated "caste," really means.
The evidence on this point has been set forth elsewhere
at considerable length, supported by the testimony of the
best authorities. It must suffice here to say that it falls
naturally into two parts : first, the proof that the Rajputs
of to-day are ethnically distinct from the Brahmans of
pure stock, the Rajputs being a red, ruddy or copper-
colored race,1 while the 'Brahmans are white-skinned, and

1 A number of distinguished men, who had a special knowledge of Raj-
putana, have put themselves on record concerning the skin-color of the Raj-
puts (see Royal Asiatic Quarterly, 1893, p. 390). Sir George Birdwood wrote,
with special reference to a passage in the Mahabharata : lohita, red, ruddy,
is a proper epithet to apply to a pure Rajput." Sir William Moore said that

IQO THE MONIST.

the two races being further distinguished by skull-form,
stature, and the other qualities which make for race-differ-
ence. The descent of the pure-blooded Rajput of to-day
from the Rajanya of two thousand years ago is unques-
tioned, as is the race-continuity of the pure-blooded Brah-
man. This brings us to the second part of our evidence:
the fact that the race-difference between Rajanya and
Brahman was recognized in India more than two thousand
years ago ; and that precisely the difference in color which
we have described, was hit on as a distinguishing char-
acter. There are, of course, besides the red Rajput and
the white Brahman, two other ancient race-stocks in India
distinguished by color : namely, the yellow races, generally
called Kolarian, such as the Santals of Bengal and the
Savaras of Madras; and the black Dravidian races of the
south, whose languages are Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam
and the rest of the Dravidian family. The yellow races
seem to have inherited from a remote time the culture of
rice and silk, which are so characteristic of the yellow race
in China;2 and the black races, the Dravidians, have re-

"red, ruddy, rust-colored would describe the appearance of the best class of
Rajputs, but there are many who would come under the heading brown."
Sir Richard Meade added important details: "I have had much intercourse
with Rajputs of all classes, and should say that the color of the true Rajput
is fairer than that of the people of the northwestern provinces, i. e., that the
skin is clearer under the color, if I may so describe it, while the color itself
is somewhat less pronounced. Of course, as a rule, Chiefs and Thakurs are
fairer than the lower orders of Rajputs, who are themselves more exposed,
and who are the descendants of those who for many generations have been
so." In answer to an inquiry as to the skin-color of the Rajputs under the
sunburn, Sir Richard Meade wrote: "The sub-shade of color in many of the
Rajputs I have seen was of a light ruddy character, in others it was rather
sallow, and in others again of a dusky reddish tinge." Sir Richard Temple
endorsed these conclusions, saying: "I should concur in the view that the
color of the true Rajputs is a reddish brown, and that it is possible or likely
that the brownish element is only the result of sun-action." Dr. Fitzedward
Hall added the point that the skin-color of the true Rajputs is extremely
like that of the Red Indians of America.

3Cf. R. F. Johnston, F.R.G.S., M.R.A.S.,From Peking to Mandalay, p.
438, Note 41 : "It seems quite clear that the Licchavis — or the great Vaggian
or Vrijian clan-system to which they belonged and from which the Mauryans
sprang — were neither Aryans nor Dravidians. In all probability they were of
Kolarian or Munda race. The Kolarians seem to have entered India from
the northeast — just as the Aryans afterwards entered it from the northwest —
and extended themselves over vast areas from which they were subsequently

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS.

markable skill in handicrafts, in building, in metal work,
and so on, the temples of Madura and other southern cities
being among the wonders of the world.

Keeping this position of the four races or "colors" in
mind, we are in a position to see the absolute accuracy of
the following passage from the Mahabharata, in the Shan-
tiparvan, beginning at verse 6934:

"The color (varna) of the Brahman was white, that
of the Kshatriyas red, that of the Vaishyas yellow, that
of the Shudras black .... This world, having been at first
created by Brahma entirely Brahmanic, became separated
into color in consequence of works. Those twice-born
men who were fond of sensual pleasure, fiery, irascible,
prone to violence, who had forsaken their duty, and were
red-limbed, came into the condition of Kshatriyas.

"Those twice-born who derived their livelihood from
kine, who were yellow, who subsisted by agriculture, and
who neglected to practise their duties, entered into the
state of Vaishyas. Those twice-born who were addicted
to mischief and falsehood, who were covetous, who lived
by all kinds of work, who were black and had fallen from
purity, sank into the condition of Shudras."

The two words used to describe the skin-color of the
military race, the Kshatriyas, in this passage, lohita
("red") and rakta-anga ("red-limbed"), are admitted by
the highest authorities to be accurately descriptive of the
skin-color of the military race of Rajputs at the present
day. It would seem, therefore, that we have a conclusive
demonstration of the true relation of the "castes" ; they are
really, what the Sanskrit word means, "colors," the colors
of four distinct races, white, red, yellow and black as we
find them in India to-day, and as they must have been when
the balance of power between the four races, which is called

driven by Dravidians and Aryans. They must have originally come from the
countries that lay to the east, which we now know as Burma, China and
Indo-China."

192 THE MONIST.

the Chaturvarnya, or "Four-color system," was first struck
in that admirably durable polity which finds its most fa-
mous expression in Manu's Laws. The two fundamental
principles of this polity were first, that each race must
remain distinct, of pure blood, intermarriage being heavily
penalized; and, secondly, that each race should perform,
in the state, those functions for which it was fitted by phys-
ical character and moral development. Both principles
are thoroughly sound and wise; and to their wisdom was
due the long duration of the "four-color system," in India.3
If, therefore, as seems certain, the difference between
the Brahmans and the Rajanyas or Kshatriyas is really
a difference of race ; if they were in the beginning two in-
dependent race-stocks, then the words in our Upanishad
story take a new and striking significance : "This teaching
never before dwelt in any Brahman, but was among all
peoples the instruction of the Kshatriya alone." On this
sentence, Shankaracharya, the greatest of the Brahmans,
comments: "This teaching was handed down for a long
time, by the succession of teacher and pupil, among the
men of the warrior race." The word translated "succes-
sion of pupil and teacher," Kshatriya-/>araw/>ara, as used
by Shankara, has a technical meaning very close to "apos-
tolic succession." One may illustrate it by saying that
the "Shankara-guru-parampara" chain, the chain of the
the successors of Shankara himself, is still unbroken at
the Shringeri math in Mysore. The word implies the
handing down of a mystery teaching through initiation.

8 Cf. T. W. Rhys Davids, Buddhist India, Preface, p. iii : "In the following
work a first attempt has been made to describe ancient India from the point
of view, not so much of the Brahman, as of the Rajput." And again, p. 53:
"The basis of the social distinctions was relationship; or, as the Aryans,
proud of their lighter color, put it, color. Their books constantly repeat a
phrase as being common amongst the people, which divided the world, as
they knew it, into four social grades, called colors (Pali, •vanna). At the head
were the Kshatriyas, the nobles. They were most particular as to the purity
of their descent through seven generations, both on the father's and the
mother's side; and are described as 'fair in color, fine in presence, stately to
behold' (Dialogues of the Buddha, \, 148; Vin. II, 4, 160)."

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS.

On the Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad version of the story,
Shankara makes a practically identical comment, using
the same technical phrase, with the same implication of a
mystery teaching, handed down among the Rajanyas by
initiation.

One version of the story we have translated comes, as
we saw, from the Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad. This
Upanishad is attributed to, or associated with, the school
of the Vajasaneyins, the chief school of the White, or
clarified Yajur Veda. The other version of the story
comes from the Chhandogya Upanishad, which is in like
manner associated with the Sama Veda. The accepted
theory is that the schools which made these divisions of the
Vedas their special study, developed the corresponding
Brahmanas and Upanishads by speculation on the sacri-
ficial parts of the Vedic hymns. But so far as the two
versions of the story of Shvetaketu are concerned, this is
apparently mere myth-making. There is not the slightest
necessary connection between the story and either Veda;
nor do the slight differences between them, which we have
noted, bear any relation at all to the difference between
the Sama and Yajur Vedas.

The account inherent in the story itself is at variance
with this supposed relation to the Vedic hymns. These
hymns are, broadly speaking, and hymns like those at-
tributed to Vishvamitra excepted, the creation of the white
Brahmans, and they became the hereditary property, and
liturgical capital, of these same Brahmans, a position
which was maintained through milleniums of Indian his-
tory. But if we are to believe King Pravahana, and to
understand his words in their plain sense as Shankara
understands them, then the teaching imparted by the king
was not the creation of the Brahmans at all, it was the
hereditary secret teaching of the Kshatriyas, the red Ra-
janyas, handed down as a mystery teaching from teacher

194 THE MONIST.

to pupil, from master to disciple, and never before came
to any Brahman, until that memorable occasion when king
Pravahana himself imparted it to the Brahman Uddalaka
the son of Aruna.4

Now let us return to the text of the Brihad Aranyaka
Upanishad and see exactly what was this secret teaching
of the red Rajanyas, then for the first time imparted to
a white Brahman.

King Pravahana, son of Jivala, discloses the Rajanya
view of human life by describing the condition of the
soul before it leaves heaven to enter the form of an unborn
infant. He uses a symbolism taken from the sacrificial

*Cf. Paul Deussen, The Philosophy of the Upanishads, p. 17 ff. : "The
Upanishads have come down to us, like the rest of the texts of the three
older Vedas, through the Brahmans. All the more striking is it, therefore,
that the texts themselves frequently trace back some of their most important
doctrines to kings, i. e., Kshatriyas. Thus, in the narrative of Chand. 5, 11-24,
five learned Brahmans request from Uddalaka Aruni instruction concerning
the Atman Vais'vanara. Uddalaka distrusts his ability to explain everything
to them, and all the six therefore betake themselves to the King As'vapati
Kaikeya, and receive from him the true instruction, the defectiveness of their
own knowledge having first been made clear. In Brih., 2, i (and the parallel
passage, Kaush. 4) the far-famed Vedic scholar Gargya Balaki volunteers to
expound the Brahman to King Ajatas'atru of Kas'i, and propounds accord-
ingly twelve (in Kaush. 16) erroneous explanations; whereupon to him, the
Brahman, the king exhibits the Brahman as the atman under the figure of a
deep sleeper, prefacing his exposition with the remark, "that it is a reversal
of the rule, for a Brahman to betake himself as a pupil to a Kshatriya in
order to have the Brahman expounded to him; now I proceed to instruct
you." In this narrative, preserved by two different Vedic schools, it is ex-
pressly declared that the knowledge of the Brahman as atman, the central doc-
trine of the entire Vedanta, is possessed by the king; but, on the contrary,
is not possessed by the Brahman 'famed as a Vedic scholar.' In Chand., I,
8-9, two Brahmans are instructed by the King Pravahana Jaivali concerning
the akas'a as the ultimate substratum of all things, of which they are ignorant.
And although it is said in Chand., I, 9, 3, that this instruction had been pre-
viously imparted by Atidhanvan to Udaras'andilya, yet the names allow of
the conjecture that in this case also a Brahman received instruction from a
Kshatriya. Similarly Chand. 7 contains the teaching given by Sanatkumara,
the god of war, to the Brahman Narada. Here the former pronounces in-
adequate the comprehensive Vedic learning of the Brahman with the words:
'All that you have studied is merely name.' Finally the leading text of the
doctrine of the soul's transmigration, which is extant in three different
recensions, is propounded in the form of an instruction given to Aruni by the
King Pravahana Jaivali. .. .The fact, moreover, which is especially prominent
in the last quoted passages, that the Brahmans during a long period had not
attained to the possession of this knowledge, for which they nevertheless dis-
play great eagerness, is most simply explained on the supposition that this
teaching with regard to the Atman was studiously withheld from them; that
it was transmitted in a narrow circle among the Kshatriyas to the exclusion
of the Brahmans; that, in a word, it was upanishad."

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS.

altar, and speaks of "the fire, the fuel, the flame, the smoke,
the embers and the sparks." We may lay aside this really
eloquent symbolism, and summarize this part of the teach-
ing.

The soul, King Pravahana teaches, dwells in the celes-
tial world. In it adhere certain streams of tendency, which
he calls "the waters," the currents of moral and mental life.
The soul descends from the celestial world to the mid-
world, through sacrifice, and in the midworld takes on a
"lunar" form, the things of the midworld being always
compared to the moon, which waxes and wanes, and shines
by reflected light ; the celestial or spiritual world in contrast
being always compared to, or symbolized by, the sun.

The soul continues its downward course and enters the
sphere of this world. This is again called a sacrifice. The
soul then comes into relation with its future father and
mother, these relations being again symbolized as sacri-
fices. Finally there comes the fifth sacrifice, the sacrifice
of physical birth, after which "the waters," that is, the
currents of character forming the new-born child, "arise,
and speak with human voice"; thus giving us the answer
to the last of the five questions proposed to young Shveta-
ketu by the Raj any a king.

At this point, we may once more try to translate the
Upanishad text :

"From this sacrifice, the man comes to birth. He lives his full
life-span, and then he dies, and they take him to the pyre. . .In this
fire the bright powers offer the man, and from that sacrifice the man
is born, of the color of the sun.

"They who know this thus, and they who, in the forest, follow
faith and truth, they are born into the flame, from the flame they
go to the day, from the day to the waxing moon, from the waxing
moon to the six months in which the sun goes north, from these
months to the Deva-world, from the Deva-world to the sun, from
the sun to the lightning; them, reaching the lightning, a person,
mind-born, coming, leads to the worlds of the Eternal. They dwell in

196 THE MONIST.

those worlds of the Eternal, in the highest realms; for them there
is no return.

"But they who win worlds by sacrifice, gifts, penance, they are
born into the smoke of the pyre, from the smoke they go to the
night, from the night to the waning moon ; from the waning moon
to the six months in which the sun goes south, from these months
to the world of the fathers, from the world of the fathers to the
moon. They, reaching the moon, become food. The gods feast on
them, as they wax and wane, like the lunar lord. Then, going full
circle, they descend to this ether, from the ether to the air, from the
air to rain, from rain to the earth ; reaching the earth, they become
food. Again they are sacrificed in the fire of man and the fire of
woman, and are reborn, coming forth again to the world of men.
Thus, verily, they go on their circling way."

We are warned, of course, by the symbolical form in
which the Rajanya states his questions, that the answers
also are symbolical. We may suggest the interpretation
of this symbolism by saying that the Rajanya teacher
seems to describe a series of worlds, or planes of conscious-
ness, in ascending degrees, from the higher of which the
soul descends into incarnation. Further, he suggests that
each world or plane has, as it were, a positive and a nega-
tive pole, a pole of spirituality and a pole of materiality.
These poles of the ascending planes he suggests by a series
of natural antitheses: the fire and the smoke of the pyre,
for the positive and negative pole of the lowest plane ; day
and night, for the positive and negative pole of the next
plane in ascending order; the moonlit and moonless fort-
nights for the poles of the next higher plane ; summer and
winter, for the poles of the next ; the sun and moon for the
next; the world of the gods and world of the fathers, for
the poles of the next. This is really admirable and very
consistent symbolism, and the use of the sun and moon for
the spiritual and psychic worlds respectively, runs through
all the Upanishads.

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 197

The suggestion is that the course of the soul at death,
through these ascending planes, is determined by the qual-
ity of its spiritual life ; the soul inspired by faith and truth
gravitates to the spiritual pole of each plane, and ascending,
comes to a realm where "a person, or spirit, mind-born,
leads it into the world of the Eternal, whence it no more
returns."

The soul, on the contrary, which seeks to win worlds
through sacrifices, penances and gifts, worshiping selfishly,
gravitates after death to the more material pole of each
plane. It finds its way to the "lunar world," and there be-
comes "food for the gods." It wanes, and descends once
more to this world, returning through the gates of birth to
terrestrial life.

We have, therefore, on the one hand, the path of faith
and truth, the path of the sun, the path of the gods, leading
to the world of the Eternal from which there is no return,
in a word, the path of complete Liberation, moksha, Nir-
vana ; and, on the other, we have the path of selfish wor-
ship, the path of the moon, the path of the fathers, the
path of Reincarnation, of Sansara, of the Circle of Neces-
sity. We have, in fact, the fundamental antithesis, the
twin-doctrine of Liberation and Reincarnation, which is
the heart of the Indian wisdom. And we are told that
"this teaching never before dwelt in any Brahman, but was,
among all peoples, the hereditary teaching of the Rajanya
alone." Finally, we have the strongest reason to believe
that the red Rajanya represented not a different class, but
a different race, from the white Brahman; a race which
may well have been firmly established in India, when the
white race, from which the Brahmans came, first descended
from the Hindu Kush.

In another chapter of the Chhandogya Upanishad,
namely, in the beginning of the Sixth Adhyaya, we have
another story of Shvetaketu and his father, Uddalaka

198 THE MONIST.

Aruni, which is equally graphic and dramatic. It begins
as follows:

There lived once Shvetaketu, Aruna's grandson ; his father ad-
dressed him, saying:

"Shvetaketu, go, learn the service of the Eternal; for no one,
dear, of our family is an unlearned nominal worshiper."

So going when he was twelve years old, he returned when he
was twenty-four; he had learned all the teachings, but was con-
ceited, vain of his learning, and proud.

His father addressed him :

"Shvetaketu, you are conceited, vain of your learning, and
proud, dear; but have you asked for that teaching through which
the unheard is heard, the unthought is thought, the unknown is
known ?"

"What sort of teaching is that, Master?" said he.

"Just as, dear, by a single piece of clay anything made of clay
may be known, for the difference is only one of words and names,
and the real thing is that it is of clay ; or just as, dear, by one jewel
of gold, anything made of gold may be known, for the difference is
only one of words and names, and the real thing is that it is gold ;
or just as, dear, by a single knife-blade, anything made of iron may
be known, for the difference is only one of words and names, and
the real thing is that it is iron; just like this is the teaching that
makes the unknown known."

"But I am sure that those teachers did not know this them-
selves ; for if they had known it, how would they not have taught it
to me?" said he; "but now let my Master tell it to me."

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"In the beginning, dear, there was Being, alone and secondless.
But there are some who say that there was non-Being, in the be-
ginning, alone and secondless; so that Being would be born from
non-Being; but how could this be so, dear?" said he; "how could
Being be born from non-Being? So there was Being, dear, in the
beginning, alone and secondless.

"Then Being beholding said : Let me become great ; let me give
birth. Then it put forth Radiance.

"Then Radiance beholding said: Let me become great; let
me give birth.

"Then it put forth the Waters. Just as a man grieves or sweats,
so from radiance the waters are born.

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 199

"Then the Waters beholding said: Let us become great; let
us give birth.

"They put forth Food. Just as when it rains much food is
produced, so from the waters Food is born.

"Of all these, of beings, there are three germs: what is born
of the Egg, what is born of Life, what is born of Fission

"Man, dear, is made of sixteen parts. Eat nothing for fifteen
days, but drink as much as you wish; for Breath, being formed of
the Waters, is cut off if you do not drink."

He ate nothing for fifteen days, and then returned to the
Master, saying:

"What shall I repeat, Master?"

"Repeat the Rig, the Yajur, the Sama verses, dear!" said he.

"None of them comes back into my mind, Master !" said he.

He said to him: "As, dear, after a big fire, if a single spark
remain, as big as a fire-fly, it will not burn much; just so, dear, of
your sixteen parts one remains, and by this one part you cannot
remember the Vedas.

"Go, eat; and then you will understand me."

He ate, and then returned to the Master; and whatever the
Master asked, all came back to his mind.

The Master said to him: "As, dear, after a big fire, if even
a single spark remain, as big as a fire-fly, and if it be fed with straw,
it will blaze up and will then burn much ; just so, dear, of your six-
teen parts one part was left; and this, being fed with food, blazed
up, and through it you remembered the teachings.

"For mind is formed of Food ; Breath is formed of the Waters ;
Voice is formed of Radiance."

Thus he learned ; thus, verily, he learned.

Nothing could be more vivid and dramatic than the
characterization of Shvetaketu, "conceited, vain of his
learning, and proud." We at once recognize the pert
youth who, after his father had instructed him, went to the
assembly of the Panchalas, to be so wofully worsted by
the Rajanya Pravahana, son of Jivala. It is to be noted
that, even before his father took the vain youth in hand,
he had learned the Three Vedas, and could repeat the
verses of the Rig, the Yajur and the Sama Vedas. How
was it then, that, being so fully instructed, he was so com-

2OO THE MONIST.

pletely at a loss, when the Rajanya master asked him con-
cerning the twin doctrines of Liberation and Reincarna-
tion?

The answer is as simple as it is vital to a proper under-
standing of the wisdom of ancient India. He was at a
loss concerning the twin doctrine of Liberation and Rein-
carnation precisely because these doctrines are nowhere
to be found in the Three Vedas, which are concerned with
quite other themes and purposes. At this point, we should
do well to read the Tevijja Sutta, the Sutta, that is, of the
Three Vedas ; wherein another great Rajanya, of the royal
race of Ikshvaku, cross-examines yet other Brahmans,
well versed in the Three Vedas, concerning the Way of
Wisdom.

In the further teaching imparted by Uddalaka Aruni
to his son, there are certain passages well worth quoting
here, both for their beauty, and because they form a char-
acteristic part of the dramatic element in the Upanishads.
The father has taught many things to the son.

"Let the Master teach me more !" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"As the honey-makers, dear, gather the honey from many a
tree, and weld the nectars together in a single nectar; and as they
find no separateness there, nor say: Of that tree I am the nectar,
of that tree I am the nectar. Thus, indeed, dear, all these beings,
when they reach the Real, know not, nor say : We have reached the
Real. But whatever they are here, whether tiger or lion or wolf or
boar or worm or moth or gnat or fly, that they become again. And
this soul is the Self of all that is, this is the Real, this is the Self.
That thou art, O Shvetaketu!"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"These eastern rivers, dear, roll eastward; and the western,
westward. From the ocean to the ocean they go, and in the ocean
they are united. And there they know no separateness, nor say:
This am I, this am I. Thus indeed, dear, all these beings, coming
forth from the Real, know not, nor say: We have come forth from

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 2OI

the Real. And whatever they are here, whether tiger or lion or
wolf or boar or worm or moth or gnat or fly or whatever they are,
that they become again. And that soul is the Self of all that is,
this is the Real, this is the Self. That thou art, O Shvetaketu !"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"If anyone strike the root of this great tree, it will flow and
live ; if any one strike the middle of it, it will flow and live ; if any
one strike the top of it, it will flow and live. So filled with Life,
with the Self, drinking in and rejoicing, it stands firm. But if the
life of it leave one branch, that branch dries up ; it leaves a second,
that dries up; it leaves a third, that dries up; it leaves the whole,
the whole dries up. Thus indeed, dear, thou must understand!"
said he. "When abandoned by Life, verily, this dies ; but Life itself
does not die. For that soul is the Self of all that is; this is the
Real, this the Self. That thou art, O Shvetaketu !"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear !" said he, "Bring me a fruit of that fig-tree."

"Here is the fruit, Master."

"Divide it in two," said he.

"I have divided it, Master."

"What do you see in it?" said he.

"Atom-like seeds, Master."

"Divide one of them in two," said he.

"I have divided it, Master."

"What do you see in it?" said he.

"I see nothing at all, Master."

So he said to him:

"That soul that thou perceivest not at all, dear, — from that
very soul the great fig-tree comes forth. Believe then, dear, that
this soul is the Self of all that is ; this is the Real, this is the Self.
That art thou, O Shvetaketu !"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"Put this salt in water, and come to me early in the morning."

And he did so, and the Master said to him:

"That salt that thou didst put in the water last night — bring it to
me !" And looking for its appearance, he could not see it, as it was
dissolved in the water.

"Taste the top of it," said he; "how is it?"

"It is salt," said he.

2O2 THE MONIST.

"Taste the middle of it, said he; how is it?"

"It is salt," said he.

"Taste the bottom of it," said he; "how is it?"

"It is salt," said he.

"Take it away, then, and return to me."

And he did so, but that exists for ever. And the Master said
to him:

"Just so, dear, you do not see the Real in the world. Yet it
is here all the same. And this soul is the Self of all that is, this
is the Real, this the Self. That thou art, O Shvetaketu !"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"Just as if they were to blindfold a man, and lead him far
away from Gandhara, and leave him in the wilderness; and as he
cried to the east and the north and the west: I am led away blind-
folded ; I am deserted blindfolded. And just as if one came, and
loosening the bandage from his eyes, told him: In that direction
is Gandhara; in that direction you must go. And he asking from
village to village like a wise man and learned, should come safe to
Gandhara. Thus, verily, a man who has found the true Teacher,
knows. He must wait only till he is free, then he reaches the rest-
ing-place. And that soul is the Self of all that is ; this is the Real,
this the Self. That thou art, O Shvetaketu !"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"When a man is near his end, his friends gather round him:
Do you know me, do you know me? they say. And until Voice
sinks back into Mind, and Mind into Breath, and Breath into Ra-
diance, and Radiance into the higher Divinity, he still knows them.
But when Voice sinks back into Mind, and Mind into Breath, and
Breath into Radiance, and Radiance into the higher Divinity, he
knows them not. And that soul is the Self of all that is, this is the
Real, this the Self. That thou art, O Svetaketu!"

"Let the Master teach me more!" said he.

"Let it be so, dear!" said he.

"They bind a man and bring him: He has stolen, they say;
he has committed theft. Heat the axe for the ordeal: and if he
be the doer of it, he makes himself untrue; maintaining untruth,
and wrapping himself in untruth, he grasps the heated axe; he
burns, and so dies. But if he be not the doer of it, he makes himself
true; maintaining truth, and wrapping himself in truth, he grasps

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS.

the heated axe ; he burns not, and so goes free. And the truth that
saves him from burning is the Self of all that is, this is the Real,
this the Self. That thou art, O Shvetaketu !"

Thus he learned the truth ; thus he learned it.

This is one of the most famed passages in the whole
age-long literature of India. The three words : "That thou
art !" form the fundamental text of all later Vedanta teach-
ing, and are always cited with reverence and wonder, as the
crown and final word of wisdom.

This passage illustrates the method already referred
to, as fundamental in the thought of ancient India: the
initiation of the disciple into the thought of the master;
the transmission of the wisdom of the master in orderly
succession to the disciple ; thus forming a link in the "Guru-
parampara chain," or apostolic succession. The names
of the teachers in such chains of master and disciple are
preserved in the matrix of the Upanishads, side by side
with such dramatic passages as that just translated.

An even better illustration of what one may call initia-
tion into wisdom is found in the Katha Upanishad, a part
of which I shall try to translate:

Vajashravasa, verily, seeking favor, made a sacrifice of all he
possessed. He had a son, also, by name Nachiketas. Him, though
still a child, faith entered, while the gifts were being led up.

He meditated:

"They have drunk water, eaten grass, given up their milk, and
lost their strength. Joyless worlds, in truth, he gains, who offers
these."

He addressed his father:

"To whom, then, wilt thou give me?" said he.

Twice and thrice he asked him.

"To Death I give thee !" said he.

Nachiketas ponders:

"I go the first of many ; I go in the midst of many. What is
Death's work that he will work on me to-day? Look, as those that
have gone before, behold so are those that shall come after. As
corn a mortal ripens, as corn he is born again."

2O4 THE MONIST.

Nachiketas comes to the House of Death; he speaks:

"Like Fire, a pure guest comes to the house. They offer him
water to assuage him. Bring water, O Death, Son of the Sun !

"Hope and expectation, friendship, kind words, just and holy
deeds, sons and cattle, this destroys, for the foolish man in whose
house a pure guest dwells without food."

After three days Death comes. Death speaks:

"As thou hast dwelt three nights in my house, without food,
thou, pure guest and honorable — honor to thee, pure one, welfare
to me — against this choose thou three wishes!"

Nachiketas speaks:

"That the descendant of Gotama may be at peace, well-minded,
and with sorrow gone, towards me, O Death; that he may speak
kindly to me when sent forth by thee ; this, of the three as my first
wish I choose."

Death speaks:

"As before will the son of Aruna, Uddalaka's son, be kind to
thee, sent forth by me; by night will he sleep well, with sorrow
gone, seeing thee freed from the mouth of Death."

Nachiketas speaks:

"In the heaven-world there is no fear at all ; nor art thou there,
nor does he fear from old age. Crossing over both hunger and
thirst, and going beyond sorrow, he exults in the heaven-world.

"The heavenly fire thou knowest, Death, tell it to me, for I am
faithful. The heaven-worlds enjoy deathlessness : this, as my second
wish, I choose."

Death speaks:

"To thee I tell it ; learn then from me, Nachiketas, finding the
heavenly fire. Know thou also the obtaining of unending worlds,
the resting-place, for this is hidden in secret."

He told him then that fire, the beginning of the worlds, and the
bricks of the altar, and how many and how they are. And he again
spoke it back to him as it was told ; and Death, well pleased, again
addressed him :

"This is thy heavenly fire, O Nachiketas, which thou hast chosen
as thy second wish. This fire as thine shall they proclaim. Choose
now, Nachiketas, thy third wish."

Nachiketas speaks:

"This doubt that there is of a man that has gone forth: 'He
exists/ say some; and 'He exists not,' others say: a knowledge of
this, taught by thee, this of my wishes is the third wish."

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS.

Death speaks:

"Even by the gods of old it was doubted about this ; not easily
knowable, and subtle is this law. Choose, Nachiketas, another wish ;
hold me not to it, but spare me this !"

Nachiketas speaks:

"Even by the gods, thou sayest, it was doubted about this ; and
not easily knowable is it, O Death. Another teacher of it cannot
be found like thee. No other wish is equal to this !"

Death speaks:

"Choose sons and grandsons of a hundred years, and much
cattle, and elephants and gold and horses. Choose the great abode
of the earth, and for thyself live as many autumns as thou wilt.

"If thou thinkest this an equal wish, choose wealth and length
of days. Be thou mighty in the world, O Nachiketas ; I make thee
an enjoyer of thy desires.

"Whatever desires are difficult to gain in the mortal world,
ask all desires according to thy will.

"These beauties with their chariots and lutes — not such as these
are to be won by men — be waited on by them, my gifts. Ask me
not of death, Nachiketas !"

Nachiketas speaks:

"These fleeting things, O Death, wear out the vigor of a mor-
tal's powers. Even the whole of life is short ; thine are chariots and
dance and song.

"Not by wealth can a man be satisfied. Shall we choose wealth
if we have seen thee? Shall we desire life while thou art master?
But the wish I choose is truly that!

"Coming near the unfading immortals, a fading mortal here
below, and understanding, thinking on the sweets of beauty and
pleasure, who would rejoice in length of days?

"This that they doubt about, O Death, what is in the great Be-
yond, tell me of that. This wish that draws near to the mystery,
Nachiketas chooses no other wish than that !"

Death speaks:

"The better is one thing, the dearer is another thing ; these two
bind a man in opposite ways. Of these two, it is well for him who
takes the better ; he fails of his object, who chooses the dearer.

"The better and the dearer approach a man ; going round them,
the sage discerns between them. The sage chooses the better rather
than the dearer; the fool chooses the dearer, through lust of pos-
session.

2O6 THE MONIST.

"Thou indeed, pondering on dear and dearly loved desires, O
Nachiketas, hast passed them by. Not this way of wealth hast thou
chosen, in which many men sink.

"Far apart are these two ways, unwisdom and what is known
as wisdom. I esteem Nachiketas as one seeking wisdom, nor do
manifold desires allure thee.

"Others, turning about in unwisdom, self-wise, and thinking
they are learned, fools, stagger, lagging in the way, like the blind
led by the blind.

"The great Beyond gleams not for the child, led away by the
delusion of possessions. 'This is the world, there is no other,' he
thinks, and so falls again and again under my dominion.

"That is not to be gained even for a hearing by many, and
hearing it many understand it not. Wonderful is the speaker of
it, blessed the receiver ; wonderful is the knower of it, taught by the
blessed."

Most willingly would I continue the magnificent ad-
dress of King Death, did space permit. But it seems better
to comment on certain passages in what has been translated,
and then to pass on to another of the dramatic pieces in the
Upanishads.

To begin with, one cannot fail to be struck by the re-
semblance of the general situation in the Katha Upanishad
to that in the dramatic fragment already translated, where
King Pravahana addresses the old Brahman, Uddalaka
Aruni. Here, again, we have the teacher trying the dis-
ciple, putting him off with "wishes of things mortal." In
the former case it was : "store of gold, of cattle and horses,
of slave-girls and tapestries and robes." The offer of
Death is much the same : "Sons and grandsons, and much
cattle, and elephants and gold and horses; these beauties,
with their chariots and lutes, be waited on by them, my
gifts!" This close resemblance long ago suggested to me
a possible verbal emendation in the Sanskrit of the former
passage. The accepted reading of the answer of the old
Brahman is: Vijnayate; ha asti hiranyasya apattam go-
ashvanan dasinam pravaranam paridhanasya. Instead of

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 2O?

ha asti, I should like to propose the reading: Hasti-hira-
nyasya dpdttam, that is, "store of elephants and gold," the
compound Hastihiranyam occurring elsewhere twice in
the Upanishads, in a sentence of just this kind; once,
namely, in the Katha Upanishad, in the passage under
discussion: Shatdyushah putrapautrdn vrinishva, bahun
pashun hasti-hiranyam ashvdn-, and again in Chhandogya
Upanishad, in the twenty-fourth section of the seventh
chapter : Go-ashvam iha mahimd iti dchakshate hasti-hira-
nyam ddsa-bhdryam, and so on.

If this proposed reading be acceptable, then we have
a set phrase, a sacramental formula, fairly the equivalent
of "the kingdoms of this world and the glory of them,"
in the Temptation in the Wilderness, which bears a close
resemblance to the temptation of Nachiketas by the Lord
of Death. There is also a strong suggestion of kinship
in the sacrifice of the only son, who, descending into the
house of Death, rises immortal on the third day.

It is quite clear that Death is imparting to Nachiketas
the same teaching which King Pravahana, son of Jivala,
revealed to Uddalaka Aruni : the twin teaching of Libera-
tion and Rebirth. "The great Beyond gleams not for the
child, led away by the delusion of possessions. 'This is the
world, there is no other,' he thinks, and so falls again and
again under my dominion;" enters, in fact, the circle of
necessity, the chain of repeated death and rebirth, of forced
Reincarnation. On the other hand is the great Beyond,
the path of the gods, and full Liberation.

We get a great deal of additional light on this antithesis
from yet other dramatic pieces in the Upanishads, as, for
example, from certain of the answers in Prashna Upani-
shad, which is, perhaps, the most consistent instance of the
dramatic form in the Upanishads. This Upanishad de-
picts six disciples coming to the master Pippalada with
fuel in their hands, as who should say : "Give light ! We are

2O8 THE MONIST.

ready to be enkindled!" The sage tried them, saying:
"Remain yet a year in fervor, service of the Eternal, and
faith. Ask whatever questions you will ; if we know them
we shall declare all to you!"

The first is: "Master, whence are all these beings
brought forth?" The answer is an eloquent description
of the World-soul, the Life, from which all beings come
forth. In that answer, we come on the following re-
markable passage, which strongly reminds us of the an-
swer of King Pravahana:

"The year is a Lord of beings. His two paths are the southern
and the northern. Therefore they who worship, thinking that it is
fulfilled by sacrifice and gifts, win the lunar world. They verily
return again. Therefore these sages who desire beings, turn to the
south. For this is the path of substance, the path of the fathers.

"But they who by the northern way seek the Self by fervor,
service of the Eternal, faith and knowledge, they verily win the
sun. This is the home of lives; this is the immortal, fearless, su-
preme way. From it they do not return again."

This is, of course, exactly the antithesis in the teaching
of King Pravahana. On the one hand, the way of self-
seeking ritual, the way of the fathers, the lunar path, the
way of Reincarnation. On the other, the way of pure
aspiration, the way of the gods, the solar path, the way of
full Liberation.

What this Liberation really meant to the teachers whose
words we are translating, we can better understand from
further answers in the same Prashna Upanishad. Thus
the fourth question adressed to the Master Pippalada is:

"How many powers sleep in the man? How many wake in
him? Who is the bright one that sees dreams? Whose is that
bliss, and in whom are all these set firm?"

The Master answered him:

"As the rays of the sun at setting all become one in his shining
orb, and when he rises they all come forth again; so all becomes
one in the higher bright one, Mind.

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 2CX)

"Therefore the man hears not, nor sees, nor smells, nor tastes,
nor touches, nor speaks, nor takes, nor enjoys, nor puts forth, nor
moves. He sleeps, they say ....

"The life-fires verily wake in this dwelling. . . .

"So this bright one in dream enjoys greatness. The seen, as
seen he beholds again. What was heard he hears again. And what
was enjoyed by the other powers he enjoys again by the other
powers. The seen and unseen, heard and unheard, enjoyed and un-
enjoyed, real and unreal, he sees it all ; as All he sees it.

"And when he is wrapped by the Radiance, the bright one no
longer sees dreams. Then within him that bliss arises. And, dear,
as the birds come to the tree to rest, so all this comes to rest in the
higher Self. . . .

"For this Self is the seer, toucher, hearer, smeller, taster,
thinker, knower, doer, the perceiving spirit. And this is set firm in
the supreme, unchanging Self.

"He reaches the unchanging Supreme who knows that shadow-
less, bodiless, bloodless, bright, unchanging One. He, dear, becomes
all-knowing, becomes the All."

We come now to the fifth answer, in which the sym-
bolism of the mystic syllable Om is interwoven with the
teaching, in a manner which suggests the probably later
Mandukya Upanishad. The fifth question is:

"He among men, who, to the end of his life, meditates on the
mystic syllable Om, — what world will he gain by it?"

The Master answered him:

"This mystic syllable Om, is for the higher and lower Eternal.
Therefore the wise man, by dwelling on this, reaches one of these:
if he meditates on the first measure, enlightened by it, he is quickly
reborn in the world ....

"And if he dwells on it in his heart with two measures, he is
led to the middle world by the liturgies. He wins the lunar world,
and after enjoying brightness in the lunar world, he returns again.

"And he who with three measures meditates on the mystic Om,
and thereby meditates on the supreme Spirit, is endowed with
Radiance, with the sun ; as a serpent is freed from its slough, he is,
verily, freed from sin. He is led by the chants to the world of the
Eternal. He beholds the indwelling spirit above the highest as-
semblage of lives."

2IO THE MONIST.

Here we have an outline of an idea which is vital to a
right understanding of the thought of the Upanishads:
the idea, namely, that there is a relation, amounting almost
to an identity, between the states or strata of consciousness
during life, and the states or strata of consciousness passed
through by the soul after death; so that, by a deep study
of the states of consciousness experienced during life, we
may learn much of the states of consciousness after death.

Briefly, the result seems to be this: The dream-state,
which is built up of impressions received during waking
consciousness, of "things seen, things heard, things en-
joyed/' finds its parallel in a dream-state which the soul
enters after death, in which it may behold dreams terrible
or beautiful. But in either case, these dreams are simply
the continuation of the mind-states experienced during
bodily life; and, as soon as the impetus thus carried over
exhausts itself, as soon as the subjective capital runs out,
the soul returns to rebirth ; or, to put the same thing in an-
other way, the mind-state of physical life and sensation
once more prevails. This dream-world between two lives
is precisely the lunar world, the world of the fathers, of
the Upanishads; lunar, because it shines with reflected
light, and waxes and wanes ; the world of the fathers, be-
cause it is identified with the world of the shades, which
is the real teaching of the Vedic hymns, the shadow-land
most eloquently described in the tale of Jaratkaru, at the
beginning of the Mahabharata.

There is a like relation between the realm beyond
dreams and the path of liberation. And it is just at this
point that the Indian teaching is most original and sug-
gestive. In a recent article, Sir Oliver Lodge, who has
long been investigating the consciousness of the shadow-
land, used a remarkable phrase. He spoke of the strata
of consciousness, and particularly of the strata of dream
and genius. We have just described the stratum of dream.

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 211

It is evident that, when we come to the realm of conscious-
ness beyond dream, we are entering what Sir Oliver Lodge
calls the stratum of genius. And we shall find it a very
suggestive thought to follow out, that genius is really the
revelation of a higher realm or stratum of consciousness,
continuous with the strata of waking and dream, and above
them; — a stratum always potentially present, yet rarely
reached, as we know that genius is rare, the stratum of
consciousness, perhaps, to which was given the name "the
kingdom of heaven which is within" ; and which is so often
identified in the Upanishads with "the heaven- world." It
is, doubtless, the same as "the mother sea of consciousness"
in the fine phrase of William James, which he conceives as
being continuous with our physical consciousness, though
we so rarely attain it. This deeper and immortal conscious-
ness may be reached in life, in illumination. It may be
reached after death, in complete Liberation, "from which
there is no return."

By far the best and most beautiful treatment of this
region of thought and understanding in the Upanishads
is that in the third and fourth part of the Brihad Aranyaka
Upanishad, in the dramatic dialogue between Janaka, King
of the Videhas, and the sage Yajnavalkya. So admirable
is this passage, and so completely characteristic of the
dramatic element in the Upanishads, that I shall try to
translate a considerable part of, to conclude the present
survey. It reaches such a high level as pure literature,
that no comment or elucidation is needed. Throughout,
the dialogue speaks for itself:

To Janaka, king of the Videhas, came Yajnavalkya, saying,
"I will not speak with the king!" But when Janaka, king of the
Videhas, and Yajnavalkya debated together at the offering of the
sacred fire, Yajnavalkya offered the king a wish. The king chose:
To ask questions according to his desire. Yajnavalkya assented,
and the king first asked:

212 THE MONIST.

"Yajnavalkya, what is the light of the Spirit of man?"

"The sun is his light, O king!" he answered. "With the sun
as his light he rests, goes forth, does his work, and returns."

"This is so in truth, Yajnavalkya. But when the sun it set,
Yajnavalkya, what is then the light of the Spirit of man?"

"The moon then becomes his light;" he answered. "With the
moon as his light he rests, goes forth, does his work and returns."

"This is so in truth, Yajnavalkya. But when the sun it set,
Yajnavalkya, and the moon is also set, what is then the light of the
Spirit of man?"

"Fire then becomes his light ;" he answered. "With fire as his
light he rests, goes forth, does his work, and returns."

"This is so in truth, Yajnavalkya. But when the sun it set,
Yajnavalkya, and the moon is also set, and the fire sinks down, what
is then the light of the Spirit of man?"

"Voice then becomes his light;" he answered. "With voice as
his light he rests, goes forth, does his work, and returns. Therefore
in truth, O king, when a man cannot distinguish even his own hand,
where a voice sounds, thither he approaches."

"This is so in truth, Yajnavalkya. But when the sun is set,
Yajnavalkya, and the moon is also set, and the fire sinks down, and
the voice is stilled, what is then the light of the Spirit of man?"

"The Soul then becomes his light," he answered. "With the
Soul as his light he rests, goes forth, does his work, and returns."

"What is the Soul?"

"It is the Consciousness in the life-powers. It is the Light
within the heart. This Spirit of man wanders through both worlds,
yet remains unchanged. He seems only to be wrapt in imaginings.
He seems only to revel in delights.

"When he enters into rest, the Spirit of man rises above this
world and all things subject to death. For when the Spirit of man
comes to birth and enters a body, he goes forth entangled in evils.
But rising up at death, he puts all evils away.

"The Spirit of man has two dwelling-places: this world, and
the other world. The borderland between them is third, the land
of dreams. While he lingers in the borderland, the Spirit of man
beholds both his dwellings, this world and the other world. And
according as his advance is in the other world, gaining that advance
the Spirit of man sees evils or delights.

"When the Spirit of man enters into rest, drawing his material
from this all-containing world, felling the wood himself and him-

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 213

self building the dwelling, the Spirit of man enters into dream,
through his own shining, through his own light. Thus doth the
Spirit of man become his own light.

"There are no chariots there, nor steeds for chariots, nor road-
ways. The Spirit of man makes himself chariots, steeds for chariots,
and roadways. Nor are any delights there, nor joys and rejoicings.
The Spirit of man makes for himself delights and joys and re-
joicings. There are no lotus ponds there, nor lakes and rivers. The
Spirit of man makes for himself lotus ponds, lakes and rivers. For
the Spirit of man is Creator.

"And there are these verses :

"Leaving the bodily world through the door of dream, the
sleepless Spirit views the sleeping powers. Then clothed in radiance,
returns to his own home, the gold-gleaming Genius, swan of ever-
lasting.

"Guarding the nest beneath through the life-breath, the Spirit
of man rises immortal above the nest. He soars immortal according
to his desire, the gold-gleaming Genius, swan of everlasting.

"Soaring upward and downward in dreamland, the god makes
manifold forms ; now laughing and rejoicing with fair beauties,
now beholding terrible things.

"They see his pleasure-ground, but him none see. Thus goes
the saying : Let none awaken him that sleeps ; for he is hard to heal,
to whom the soul returns not.

"They also say that dream is a province of waking. For what-
ever he sees while awake, the same he sees in dream. Thus the
Spirit of man becomes his own light.

"And when he has taken his ease in the resting-place of dream,
moving to and fro, and beholding good and evil, the Spirit of man
returns again by the same path, hurrying back to his former dwell-
ing-place in the world of waking. But whatever the Spirit of man
may behold there, returns not after him, for the Spirit of man is
free, and nought adheres to the Spirit."

"This is so, in truth, Yajnavalkya. I give a thousand cattle
to the teacher. But speak of the higher wisdom, that makes for
Liberation."

"And when he has taken his pleasure in the waking world,
moving to and fro and beholding good and evil, the Spirit of man
returns again by the same path, hurrying back to dreamland.

"As a great fish swims along one bank of the river, and then
along the other bank, first the eastern bank, and then the western,

214 THE MONIST.

so the Spirit of man moves through both worlds, the waking world
and the dream world.

"Then as a falcon or an eagle, flying to and fro in the open
sky and growing weary, folds his wings and sinks to rest, so of a
truth the Spirit of man hastens to that world where, finding rest,
he desires no desire and dreams no dream.

"And whatever he has dreamed, as that he was slain or op-
pressed, crushed by an elephant or fallen into an abyss, or whatever
fear he beheld in the waking world, he knows now that it was from
unwisdom. Like a god, like a king, he knows he is the All. This
is his highest world.

"This is his highest joy. He has passed beyond all evil. This
is his fearless form. And as one who is wrapt in the arms of the
beloved, knows naught of what is without or within, so the Spirit
of man wrapt round by the Spirit of Inspiration, knows naught of
what is without or within. This is his perfect being. He has won
his desire. The Soul is his desire. He is beyond desire. He has
left sorrow behind.

"Here the father is father no' more ; nor the mother a mother ;
nor the worlds, worlds ; here the scriptures are no longer scriptures ;
the thief is a thief no more ; nor the murderer a murderer ; nor the
outcast an outcast ; nor the baseborn, baseborn ; the pilgrim is a
pilgrim no more, nor the saint a saint. For the Spirit of man is not
followed by good, he is not followed by evil. He has crossed over
all the sorrows of the heart.

"The Spirit sees not ; yet, seeing not, he sees. For the energy
that dwelt in sight cannot cease, because it is everlasting. But there
, is no other besides the Spirit, or separate from him, for him to see.
.... For only where there is separation may one see another, may
one taste another, may one speak to another, may one hear another,
may one touch another, may one know another. But the one Seer
is undivided, like pure water. This, O king, is the world of the
Eternal. This is the highest path. This is the highest treasure.
This is the highest world. This is the highest bliss. All beings live
on the fragments of this bliss.

"He who amongst men is rich and happy, a lord well endowed
with all wealth, this is the highest bliss of mankind. But a hundred-
fold greater than the bliss of man is the bliss of the departed who
have won paradise. . . .and of him who has heard, who has risen from
darkness, who is not stricken by desire. This is his highest bliss.
This, O king, is the world of the Eternal !"

THE DRAMATIC ELEMENT IN THE UPANISHADS. 215

Thus spoke Yajnavalkya.

And the king replied: "I give the teacher a thousand cattle.
But speak of the higher wisdom that makes for Liberation!"

And Yajnavalkya feared, thinking: "The wise king has cut me
off from all retreat!" He said:

"And when he has taken his pleasure in dreamland, moving to
and fro, and beholding good and evil, the Spirit of man returns
again by the same path, hurrying back to his former dwelling-place
in the world of waking.

"Then as a wagon heavy-laden might go halting and creak-
ing, so the embodied soul goes halting, overburdened by the Spirit
of Inspiration, when it has gone so far that a man is giving up the
ghost.

"When he falls into weakness, whether it be through old age
or sickness he falls into weakness, then like as a mango or the fruit
of the wave-leafed fig or of the holy fig-tree is loosened from its
stem, so the Spirit of man is loosed from these bodily members, and
returns again by the same pathway to its former dwelling-place in
the life.

"Then like as when the king is coming forth, the nobles,
officers, charioteers and magistrates make ready to serve him with
food and drink and shelter, saying: the king is coming forth, the
king is at hand ; so all the powers make ready to wait on the soul,
saying: the soul is coming forth, the soul is at hand.

"And like as when the king will go forth, the nobles, officers,
charioteers and magistrates gather about him; so verily at the
time of the end all the life-powers gather round the soul, when it
has gone so far that a man is giving up the ghost.

"When he falls into a swoon, as though he had lost his senses,
the life-powers are gathering in round the soul ; and the soul,
taking them up together in their radiant substance, enters with them
into the inner heart

"Then the point of the heart grows luminous, and when it
has grown luminous, it lights the soul upon its way:. . . .The soul
becomes conscious and enters into Consciousness.

"Then his wisdom and works take him by the hand, and the
knowledge gained of old. Then as a caterpillar when it comes to
the end of a leaf, reaching forth to another foothold, draws itself
over to it, so the soul, leaving the body, and putting off unwisdom,
reaching another foothold there, draws itself over to it.

"As a worker in gold, taking an ornament, moulds it to another

2l6 THE MONIST.

form, new and fairer; so in truth the soul, leaving the body, and
putting off unwisdom, makes for itself another form new and fairer :
a form like the forms of departed souls, or of the seraphs, or of the
gods, or of the creators, or of the Eternal, or of other beings.

"The soul of man is the Eternal. It is made of consciousness,
it is made of feeling, it is made of life, it is made of vision, it is
made of hearing ; it is made of the earth, it is made of the waters,
it is made of the air, it is made of the ether, it is made of the radi-
ance and what is beyond the radiance ; it is made of desire and what
is beyond desire, it is made of wrath and what is beyond wrath, it
is made of the law and what is beyond the law; it is made of the
All. The soul is made of this world and of the other world.

"According as were his works and walk in life, so he becomes.
He that does righteously becomes righteous. He that does evil be-
comes evil. He becomes holy through holy works and evil through
evil.

"As they said of old: Man verily is formed of desire; as his
desire is, so is his will; as his will is, so he works; and whatever
work he does, in the likeness of it he grows.

"There is this verse:

"Through his past works he shall return once more to birth,
entering whatever form his heart is set on. When he has received
full measure of reward in paradise for the works he did, from that
world he returns again to this, the world of works.

"Thus far of him who is under desire. Now as to him who
is free from desire, who is beyond desire, who has gained his desire,
for whom the Self is his desire. From him the life-powers do not
depart. Growing one with the Eternal, he enters into the Eternal.

"There is this verse:

"When all desires that were hid in the heart are let go, the
mortal becomes immortal, and reaches the Eternal.

"And like as the slough of a snake lies lifeless, cast upon an
ant-hill, so lies his body, when the spirit of man rises up bodiless
and immortal, as the Life, as the Eternal, as the Radiance."

"I give a thousand cattle to the teacher !" Thus spake Janaka,
king of the Videhas.

There is this verse:

"The small old path that stretches far away has been found
and followed by me. By it go the Seers who know the Eternal,
rising up from this world to the heavenly world."

NEW YORK. CHARLES JOHNSTON.

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE.

ONE of the earliest and most persistent efforts of the
human mind has been that of finding some common
basis in things, some receptacle to catch the stream of
change: days and nights, this world, other worlds, life,
death, decay, regeneration. To us it would be intolerable
to accept the idea of a sieve-like universe, through which
events poured into some inaccessible limbo, never to be
recovered again. We expect things to be related, held
together somehow, somewhere, in spite of apparent dis-
ruption, disappearance, or total loss.

On this expectation rests the whole procedure of knowl-
edge, which for purposes of illustration I propose to con-
fine to that involved in scientific methods.

Let us start with an experience. A certain combina-
tion of events gives me pain. Deep-seated in my organism
is dread of pain and roughly speaking and in crudest
terms, I am a being composed, for survival-fitness, of
three factors: horror of pain, desire for pleasure, and
some power of self-adjustment. Hence a painful expe-
rience is not merely suffering, but also learning; in striv-
ing to avoid, I strive to change the conditions of my world,
and my will, however puny, is exerted to that end.

How much I manipulate it depends on my own struc-
ture, imagination, will. To a creature devoid, e. g., of
locomotion, the range of adjustment is restricted. Almost
passive, it suffers and succumbs, or chances to survive:
but its range of pleasure, pain, or curiosity is limited as

2l8 THE MONIST.

well. The more complex the organism, the more complex
the world of its reactions, interpretations and experiences.
For instance, a burnt child dreads the fire, but its simple
soul is satisfied to avoid the fire; it has as yet conceived
no ambition to explore the mysteries of heat, of atmos-
pheric pressure, and molecular activity!

These elementary remarks may introduce my thesis.
I propose to urge: (i) that the accumulation of knowl-
edge, the intricate structure of science, is ultimately for
this purpose, — as far as may be to order and control life,
and (2) that in so far as its formulations have achieved
their aim, it has been by the use of abstraction. Inci-
dentally we shall see how the naive mind is apt to accept
these formulations as true in a sense which science is not
concerned to assert, and which it could never achieve; —
I mean accepts them as actual records of what is believed
to be the real world, and revelations that reproduce the
intimacies of Being.

But lest I should range over the whole field of knowl-
edge let me restrict myself to the fortunes of some scien-
tific hypotheses ; and finally let me ask if truth in the above
sense can ever be arrived at by science, and whether a
decision in the negative necessarily amounts to skepticism.

You may remember the old Greek story of the atheist
Diagoras, when he was shown over a temple to Poseidon,
full of the olive offerings of sailors whom their prayers
had saved from shipwreck. Unabashed he turned and
said : "Show me rather the offerings of those who prayed
and perished."

Is not our admiration for the successes of science some-
what similar and are not its failures erased from the rec-
ords of its triumphs? Has it not as persistently disap-
pointed the human craving for finality as the wildest fan-
cies of philosophy? At how many points in its develop-
ment have we not been tempted to think, "Here is finality,

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE. 2IQ

here is the key to the inmost shrine," and found that we
were still wandering in the antechambers of the labyrinth ?

Let us briefly review the vicissitudes in the history of
"matter." Newton defined matter thus: "It seems prob-
able to me that God in the beginning formed matter in
solid, massy, hard, impenetrable, movable particles . . . and
that these primitive particles being solids are incompar-
ably harder than any porous bodies compounded of them;
even so hard as never to wear or break in pieces, no ordi-
nary power being able to divide what God himself made
one in the first creation." Thus atoms were absolutely
inelastic, and according to the theory of essential disparity
of matter and motion, they were inert. A third character,
absolute homogeneity, was a necessary conclusion from
the fact that all bodies, of whatever they were composed,
were acted upon by gravity in exactly the same manner.
Thus we have particles which are mathematically though
not physically divisible, absolutely solid, inert and homo-
geneous.

Many experiments justified this definition. Did all?
First, according to the kinetic theory of gases, solidity is
impossible. In collision of ordinary bodies or particles,
the practical loss of apparent motion is accounted for by
the conversion of an unchanged quantum of energy into
an internal agitation of the minute parts composing the
colliding bodies. Atoms are by definition destitute of parts,
hence in a collision of atoms, no such compensation is pos-
sible, and the physicist is faced with the alternatives, either
of denying the solidity of atoms in the Newtonian sense,
or of renouncing the principle of the conservation of en-
ergy. The first is preferred. To make a long story short,
Newton's rigidity of atoms, like his theory of contact action
—the only thoroughly mechanical explanation of the ope-
rations of one body upon another — proving inadequate,
his mechanical atoms were replaced by dynamical ones.

22O THE MONIST.

As defined by Boscovich and the French School, an
atom is no longer a substantial entity, but a mathematical
point, a center of force, and "matter" is a crowd of such
points, endowed with inertia and powers of attraction and
repulsion.

Now the difficulty which beset Newton's theory of con-
tact action, viz., how to explain "action at a distance,"
forced from him a descriptive apparatus, setting forth the
behavior of related bodies, but not attempting to explain
it. On his own atomic theory he could not do so. This ap-
paratus was by Boscovich taken for reality; — he thus pre-
cisely inverted Newton's procedure. In Professor Ward's
words, "The solid, primitive particles of various sizes and
figures in which Newton believed, were rejected; and the
inherent forces acting through a vacuum which he dis-
claimed as absurd, were accepted as the reality to which
all the physical properties of matter were due."

But this inversion of the purely mechanical theory
again raised difficulties. For to the "mass points" were
attributed intrinsic force, a departure from the funda-
mental idea of the indifference of matter to motion, and
also from the conception of force as something arising
only in the relation of two bodies, not present in one alone.

Lord Kelvin's theory of vortex atoms was an endeavor
to combine the mechanical and dynamical. Again to quote
Professor Ward, "There is (in the kinetic theory) no ac-
tion at a distance, but then there is no empty space : action
and reaction are to be explained, not by impact, but by the
physical continuity of the plenum. There are no hard
atoms ; yet the atom occupies space, and is elastic in virtue
of its rotatory motion."

I must not spend much more time on this development
of the new upon the almost total wreckage of the old. I will
merely add that Kelvin's theory is moribund, too. For his
theory called for a "homogeneous, incompressible, perfect

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE. 221

fluid" in which vortex atoms are rings formed by rota-
tional movements. But how can mere disembodied motions
possess inertia? As Maxwell says, "Though the primitive
fluid is the only true matter according to the kinetic ideal
.... yet that which we call matter is not the primitive fluid
itself, but a mode of motion of that primitive fluid. In
[this] theory, therefore, the mass of bodies requires ex-
planation. We have to explain the inertia of what is only
a mode of motion, and inertia is a property of matter, not of
modes of motion."

To return once more to the older view of atoms, the
theory of the homogeneity of matter issued in the defini-
tion of its parts as in all respects equal, viz., the atoms
themselves remain as elements utterly devoid of finaltiy,
or in Spencer's words, "The properties of the different
elements result from difference of arrangement, arising
by the compounding and recompounding of ultimate homo-
geneous units." But the science of chemistry is a denial
of this, as we know. And what occupies the scientific
field to-day as a theory of matter?

The old atom, either as a physically irreducible par-
ticle, or a point of force, has disappeared. In its stead
there is a minute system of electrical charges, called
electrons, positive and negative, say 68,000 of these con-
stituting one atom, and separated by what is analogous
to interstellar, interplanetary space. As Sir Oliver Lodge
picturesquely puts it, the relative sizes of electron and atom
may be gathered from this: Imagine an electron of one
inch in size, your atom would be a mile and a half in diam-
eter!

If Newton's atoms were imperceptible, these elemental
and infinitely smaller bodies almost stagger the imagina-
tion. And with their advent for various reasons there
comes again a disturbing doubt as to the validity of well-
established scientific principles, such as conservation of

222 THE MONIST.

energy, and conservation of mass. But perhaps I have
given concrete illustrations enough to show how over and
over again the most fundamental "truths" of science have
been superseded, buried under fresh growth.
Two points have perhaps been noticed:

1. The increasing tendency of science to recede in its
formulations, from anything which could conceivably be
a matter of actual sense experience; starting with solid
particles, as a description of the basis of things, it tends
to strip these of perceptible characters and to melt and fade
the living, qualitative world into a mathematical scheme
which is purely quantitative and abstract.

2. The fact that, in spite of this tendency, science is no
mere cobweb of finely spun speculations, but is sharply
checked and corrected by the very sense experience it ap-
parently ignores.

How are these apparently contradictory facts com-
patible ?

Science is no idle game, its unwearying speculations
are inspired, sustained and tested by a single purpose, that
of harmonizing and controlling life. This purpose may be
defined from various points of view : e. g., from the esthetic,
which rejoices in an interrelated and orderly system of
thought; or the practical which seeks the ability to re-
produce experiences, to widen the scope of life, increase
the complexity of its relations perhaps, but above all to
maintain existence with some degree of harmony and se-
curity.

Therefore science is justified if its methods succeed in
realizing this ideal. The savage with his untutored mind,
his superstitions, his investing of nature and the elements
with erratic and wild powers, falls short of such security
as we seek to possess. He knows his own capricious self,
and his consistently anthropomorphic imagination attrib-

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE. 223

utes to his world just such caprice, — it is revengeful,
changeable, wild, like himself.

But science de-humanizes the world. Whereas, in our
indecisions, our caprice, our fluctuating wills, we are not
unlike the savage still, yet our world, for science, is purged
of all passions, all chance, all uncertainty. There is no
minutest particle of matter, no faintest pulse of energy
but is held or moved according to fixed immutable law.
If e. g., an astronomical calculation is discarded, it is not
because we suspect the solar system of capricious be-
havior, but ourselves of superficial observation, or mistaken
interpretation. The great world stands fast in the abso-
lute regularity of law, while we try again and again to
formulate its secret.

But herein lies the strange paradox of science — we
control life only by the partial abstraction from life. Sci-
ence must abstract, in order that we may argue from one
case to another. The abstract law which omits all the
particular circumstances of every fact gains thereby ap-
plicability to fresh fact. The more phenomena it can relate
under one law, the more successful is the law, and the per-
manence of any law is in direct proportion to its univer-
sality (cf. Poincare on "Laws and Principles").

Suppose a given experiment x, in which there are a
thousand factors, the influence of the stars, known and un-
known, the light of day, the atmospheric conditions, actual
governments among men, the various religions, etc., ele-
ments uncountable, and yet present. What does science
do? The elimination of the irrelevant being its ideal, it
clips and clears and ignores, till perhaps just one element
remains, e. g., weight. The falling body x will move after
one second, with an acceleration of 32 feet per second.

Another experiment is made, — with a totally different
body y. Meanwhile the earth has whirled away through
space, the daylight has gone, the stars in unfathomed re-

224 THE MONIST.

cesses of invisibility have changed their relation to our
world, every element known and unknown is different in
however slight and subtle a way; and yet, for gravity,
body y falls to the earth exactly as did body x, there is no
faintest fluctuation of inexorable sameness. For it a rock
is precisely the equivalent of a living organism.

Look again at the history of science. Which have been
the unstable hypotheses? Those which deal with more or
less unimportant details of internal structure or with any
subsidiary phenomena. As I have said, the more general
and simple a so-called law is, the more is its permanence
guaranteed, until like that of the conservation of energy
it is put out of the reach of criticism, and is no longer a
"law/' but a "principle."

Scientists use every trick and expedient to leave this un-
disturbed. As it has been well put, "we postulate an un-
known supplement of the experienced, in order to prevent
facts from refuting a cherished assumption." Let me
quote Professor Thomson: "In electrical phenomena we
are brought into contact with cases of interaction between
bodies charged with electricity, in which the action of the
first on the second is not equal and opposite to the reaction
of the second on the first. In such cases we suppose that
both bodies are connected with the ether round them, and
that Newton's third law holds when we consider the ether
and the two bodies as constituting the system under exam-
ination. From this point of view, the potential energy of
an electrical system may be regarded as due to its connec-
tion with an invisible subsidiary system, possessing kinetic
energy equal in amount to the potential energy of the orig-
inal system."

This is what I began by describing as a receptacle for
all phenomena, a confine within which minor disturbances
may be expected, but which itself is beyond the reach of
such disturbance. I do not withdraw my assertion that

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE. 225

science is checked by sense experience, and in minor matters
it is constantly being transformed. But sense experience
is aided and harmonized by nothing so effectively as by
these more general principles. Hence we refuse to quarrel
with their bleak and lifeless abstraction. We see then
how such apparently disrespectful juggling with so-called
"fact" is justified. It is justified because it allows us to
reproduce, modify, predict, certain groups of experiences
at will, and this is the supreme end and aim of science:
control.

Look at what Aristotle called the tSicu apxai/> or special
principles of the sciences. According to him they were
irreducible to one another, and we have not disproved his
contention. Biology and physics do not wholly agree.
Euclidean space and non-Euclidean or curved space each
possesses its special space-relations, and axioms in the one
system become absurdities in the other. A more intimate
instance is this, — the atomic hypothesis as to the nature of
matter is not reducible to a mathematical hypothesis, yet
they both lead to successful manipulations of the real. In
our theoretical world the lion and the lamb lie down to-
gether; so long as the various theories succeed in control-
ling those portions of our experience assigned to them,
why should we be over-particular in a demand that they
shall all be convertible into the same formula or hypoth-
esis?

You will remember that I spoke of Newton's atomic
theory as having "proved inadequate/' I hope I have
made myself clear as to what I mean by that word. A
theory may be beautifully consistent with itself and yet
be inadequate in the sense I have tried to describe. Let
me add another illustration. A theory is not discarded out
of mere caprice; like the Ptolemaic system, a formulation
may work perfectly well until a widening experience brings
in so many fresh factors that any calculation which includes

226 THE MONIST.

them becomes too cumbersome for convenient use. Then
is the moment for such scientific upheavals as that involved
in passing from the Ptolemaic to the Copernican system.
The facts observed and classified in the old order yesterday,
assemble to-day under new names and with reversed rank.
Yesterday the earth was central, to-day the sun is the point
of reference for the whole solar system. Nothing has
fallen out of the heavens; the planets and stars remain in
their old places, but we describe their relations differently,
and this altered description is forced from us by their be-
havior. The alteration justifies itself, because it enables
us to calculate and predict with increased facility and suc-
cess.

The first two objects of this paper I have laid before
you:

1. The fact that scientific procedure is purposive, its
end and justification, control of our experience.

2. And that to attain this control it must be abstract,
eliminating whatever is irrelevant to the special purpose in
view.

Finally I proposed to ask whether science can be said
to penetrate into the very heart of Being, — reproducing its
true nature ?

Let us put the question in this form : Is it true that in
the objective world which goes on its way more or less
regardless of me and my science, is it literally true that
there are atoms, electrons, perfect fluids, ethers, etc. etc. ?
It seems to me there is only one answer : we do not know ;
we know no more than the merest savage. By a curious
paradoxical trick, we have so defined our world as to put
it quite beyond the reach of refutation by sense-experience.
We assert of it, and minutely describe parts of whose indi-
vidual nature we can never, ex hypothesi, have actual sen-
sible experience, as of one individual with another.

Suppose a solar giant with short sight who required a

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE.

crowd composed of nearly all the inhabitants of Europe
before he could even see it at all. He might by some happy
guess suggest that its black mass was composed of atoms,
but how far would you as one of the component atoms
admit that this giant really knew anything about you?

For science treats of bare averages, and we know not
how far the exactness of its (minor) laws would go un-
challenged if they took account of individual changes
among infinitesimal bodies.

Think of how peculiarly erratic we are in our methods.
We so define the real constitution of matter as to shut our-
selves out from any possible knowledge of it, in the sense
I have tried to describe. We lay down the law of the con-
servation of energy, let me say arbitrarily, and this law
is based on what assumptions? First, that from our tiny
corner of this immense world, we can by analogy infer with
accuracy the nature of all the vast remainder; secondly,
that the tiny corner plus the vast remainder together pos-
sess a certain finite though unknown sum of energy, and
that this sum is absolutely constant. By what right do
I make such assumptions? Take another instance. Al-
though the law of causality is gradually being extruded
from science which more and more contents itself with mere
description, it still has a very respectable reputation. But
is it an accurate law? What it asserts is this: reproduce
all the conditions of a certain phenomenon, that phenom-
enon will reappear. But the conditions never can be re-
produced, not in countless billions of cycles; for admitting
the bold assumption that almost every factor can be repro-
duced, the conditions would at any rate be assembled in
another time. And by what right do we assume that an-
other time has no effect upon the rest of the conditions?
none upon the resultant phenomenon? Strictly speaking
by no right whatever.

There is another disheartening weakness of science:

228 THE MONIST.

do what we may we never seem to know the thing exam-
ined, in its very intimacy, — everything is ultimately de-
fined by what it does to something else. Mass is denned
in terms of force, force in terms of mass. Space is relative,
so is time. Motion is known not as absolute, but as some-
thing which arises out of relation. Body A might whirl
away through empty space for ever and not be in motion
in the sense of perceiving it, or being perceived as moving.
Add body B, whirling faster or slower, and the phenomenon
of motion emerges.

Of space Poincare says: "It is impossible to imagine
pure empty space ...."; "whoever speaks of absolute space,
uses words devoid of meaning . . . . "

"For example I am at a certain point in Paris, the Place
du Pantheon, and I say I will come back here to-morrow.
If I am asked, do you mean you will return to the same
point in space ? I shall be tempted to answer 'Yes' ; and yet
I should be wrong in saying so. For between now and
to-morrow the earth, carrying with it the Place du Pan-
theon, will have traveled more than two million kilometers.
If I wish to be precise, this fact does not help me. For
these two million kilometers have been traveled by our
earth in relation to the sun. The sun again is in motion
relatively to the Milky Way, and the Milky Way itself is
doubtless moving though with a rapidity inaccessible to
our knowledge. Thus we are in complete ignorance, and
shall always be so, of exactly how much the Place du Pan-
theon moves in one day. What I should say is this: To-
morrow I shall again see the dome of the Pantheon, and
if there were no such dome, my phrase would be meaning-
less and space would vanish/'

He gives another illustration, that of Delboeuf:

"Suppose that in one night all the dimensions of the
universe increased one thousand times, what would be my
sensations the next morning? I should be aware of no

A PHILOSOPHICAL ASPECT OF SCIENCE. 22Q

change whatever. For all the relations of one thing to an-
other would have retained their precise proportions, and I
should remain forever in ignorance of this titanic trans-
formation."

I hope all these examples have not been confusing. I
have merely tried to point out that to serious thought it
is impossible to accept naively the concepts of science, ac-
cept them I mean as the true counterparts, in thought, of
what goes on in the real objective world.

It cannot be put better than by Prof. Thomson, in his
brilliant dictum, "Scientific theory is a policy not a creed."
Must we turn skeptics, must we believe that all effort really
to know is futile, bound to ultimate failure? I think not.
Let us forget all that we have been criticising for a mo-
ment, and simply see what really takes place, when in the
light of scientific directions as to temperature, atmospheric
pressure, etc., I try to boil an egg. I may need the latest
refinements of physics to effect my purpose, but they are
ultimately tested by the fact that my egg does boil, and that
their use leads to a satisfying breakfast.

All I wish and need is to carry out my purpose. If I
find it easier to bring about a desired complex of relations
by treating my wrorld as if it swarmed with electrons, then
I say "it is constituted thus." But I need not believe the
electrons in my scientific imagination have a real counter-
part in what actually goes on.

If I can penetrate into the universe by these methods,
then we may say in a very profound sense, that we do
understand it. Our formulations will forever fail if we
demand of them actual reproduction of the unending rich-
ness and complexity of even our minute plot of this un-
measured universe. They will not fail, if we understand
that they are instruments and symbols and not reproduc-
tions, and ask of them only assistance in harmonizing and
integrating our experience. And so the lesson of the in-

230 THE MONIST.

stability of scientific theories is not necessarily a skeptical
one, and at the risk of repetition let me emphasize this
point. I say that the transformations of scientific theory
do not necessarily lead to skeptical conclusions. And why ?
For two reasons: First, because they are not random, but
progressive, because they always mean more successful
control of experience ; secondly, because they are not merely
capricious and fanciful, but rather are forced from us by
the world with which we deal. Though it is sometimes
friendly in allowing our intimacy, amiable in appropriating
some of our interpretations, it is merciless in punishing
stupidity, and with "nature" ignorance is crime. The pun-
ishment is always a signal for a readjustment of what hith-
erto we have asserted as true.

The progress of science might be described as a series
of successes and failures on an ascending curve. No failure
means a total collapse of knowledge, no success is ever
complete. But the proportion of success to failure is en-
couraging and allows us to conclude that the outer world
of reality is not beyond the measure of our understanding.
But if we are not led to skepticism neither are we given ab-
solute certainty. There is no incontrovertible proof that
the sequences of nature, of days and nights, or of our own
thoughts as we know them, will ever return.

The two main types of mind in the world, the optimistic
and pessimistic, will emphasize the one fact or the other,
the successes of yesterday, or the uncertainty of to-morrow.
Meanwhile science lives by constant readjustment, finding
in its growing success and control the hope, no matter how
distant it may be, of some ultimate consummation.

G. O. WARREN.
BOSTON. MASS.

THE ROCK OF AGES.

" I "HE nature of science is much misunderstood even by
_L scientists of rank, and as a result theories such as
agnosticism, pluralism, pragmatism, humanism, etc., make
their appearance. The truth is that the conception of
science as a method, as a systematic plan of investigation,
as a consistent principle of arranging facts in order, has
not as yet become common property among our main in-
vestigators, and there is a notion afloat of the haphazard
character of scientific research.

Mrs. Fiske Warren, whose article "A Philosophical
Aspect of Science" appears elsewhere in this issue, is an
instance of this tendency. She studied four years at Ox-
ford, taking the full philosophical course with teachers
representing opposing schools of philosophical thought.
She is introduced to us by Professor William James who
speaks of her in the highest terms.

Mrs. Fiske Warren's conception of science is by no
means isolated. In a lucid way she summarizes and ably
represents the view common among many scientists, and
from this standpoint it almost appears a kindness toward
science, this inadequate mode of research, to look upon
its future with indulgence and suppress the pessimism of
despair. In spite of the many drawbacks of science, Mrs.
Warren advocates a conditional optimism which is to com-
fort us for the loss of our illusion.

Note that in her conception the progress of science
"might be described in a series of successes and failures

232 THE MONIST.

on an ascending curve; no failure means a total collapse
of knowledge, no success is ever complete." Thus she
places scientific solutions on a level with haphazard proba-
bilities, but even in doing this she ignores the fact that the
simile here used is based on the conception of a mathemat-
ical curve which would definitely predetermine the progress
of science. The development of science is no less subject to
law than the growth of animals and plants, the crystalli-
zations of minerals, yea, the formation of whole solar sys-
tems. This does not prove as yet, but indicates, that sci-
ence is not comparable to any haphazard mode of hitting
the bull's eye and does not depend on incidental successes,
harboring the failures also in its own nature as if they
were part and parcel of science itself and did not belong
to the struggles of poor mortal and fallible scientists who
fail to attain an insight into her nature.

When Mrs. Fiske Warren calls her position "a philo-
sophical conception of science," I must demur, for I hold
that her views are unphilosophical and even antiphilosoph-
ical; they are pluralistic. Philosophy has always endeav-
ored to trace the unity of our conception of the world, and a
pluralistic philosophy which, while clinging to particulars
and to individual facts, denies unity and scorns system as
pure theory is practically a surrender of the ideal of philo-
sophical thought and implies, to say the least, a suggestion
that science is impossible and that the light of science is a
mere will-o'-the-wisp.

METHOD THE ESSENTIAL FEATURE OF SCIENCE.

Science is a method of inquiry and as such it means
system. The results of science are systematically formu-
lated universalities, i. e., groups of facts of the same char-
acter described in their essential nature, singling out the
determinant features and omitting all the rest. Such a
formula describing a definite set of facts is called a natural

THE ROCK OF AGES. 233

law, and I will say here incidentally that what Mrs. Warren
says concerning the nature of abstraction is quite correct,
although she might have better characterized the nature
of abstraction if she had borne in mind the significance of
the formal sciences, especially logic and mathematics,
which play such an important part in abstraction, furnish-
ing the backbone of what we call system in science.

We feel prompted to make a few further comments on
the importance of abstraction, for he who truly under-
stands the nature of abstraction can no longer cling to a
pluralistic conception either in science or philosophy.

Abstraction singles out some definite features and drops
all others. An abstraction is mind-made but it represents
a real quality of objective things. People who speak of
"empty abstractions" with a view of detracting from their
significance know not what they say and only exhibit their
own lack of judgment. Abstraction is the scepter with
which man rules nature, for by the means of abstraction
we recognize the common features of things, classify them
as general concepts, and learn to formulate the uniformi-
ties of nature, commonly called "natural laws."

The very existence of abstraction proves that generali-
zation is possible and the mere possibility of generalization
is an evidence that there are general types, and reason is
justified in trusting to logic, arithmetic and mathematics
when dealing with facts of the objective world.

Man is the only living being on earth who can make
abstractions, for the organ needed to think of whiteness
and not of white snow or other white things, to conceive
of numbers by counting things and omitting all qualities
of the things counted except their presence as items, pre-
supposes the use of words which serve as spoken symbols
for things or their qualities and the faculty of making ab-
stractions, of comprising many sense-impressions into gen-
eral concepts, and of classifying them into a system of

234 THE MONIST.

genera and species, is called reason. The speaking animal
becomes a rational animal and the rational animal alone
can form abstractions, while a methodical use of abstrac-
tions establishes science.

A formula describing a definite set of facts is a scien-
tific acquisition which (notwithstanding Mrs. Warren's
statement to the contrary) is a success, complete in its
special field. The three Kepler laws, for instance, are a
definite and complete solution of the problem of the move-
ments of heavenly bodies. While it is true that the attempts
to interpret these facts of nature were failures, of which
many were by no means a "total collapse of knowledge,"
it would be a great mistake to imagine that Kepler had only
succeeded in a limited way, and that we had to wait for
further facts in order to verify his three laws, or even to
expect them to be upset or at least modified by our increase
of knowledge.

Science is not a collection of more or less verified hy-
potheses. It is not an aggregate of mere probabilities.
Science is a method of determining the truth, and in spite
of the many gaps in our comprehension it offers us a well
guaranteed fund of knowledge.

It is characteristic of a conception of science such as
underlies Mrs. Fiske Warren's presentation of the case
that no distinction is made between theory and well ascer-
tained knowledge of facts. Note the instances which our
author adduces to prove her case. She selects for the pur-
pose a brief review of the vicissitudes of the history of
matter, a problem which even to-day is not yet ripe for solu-
tion. She presents to us a number of hypotheses, not to
say vagaries, of prominent scientists.

THEORIES AND TRUTHS.

Newton formulated the law of gravitation in his Prin-
cipia, and this is Newton's immortal work, but otherwise

THE ROCK OF AGES. 235

his significance as a scientist is greatly overrated. Bear
in mind Schopenhauer's strictures1 that Newton's fame is
based on the statement of a theory which was first pro-
nounced by Hooke, whose claim in this case he ignored
with persistent narrowness.2 Note Newton's childish ideas
concerning the meaning of the Revelation of St. John, his
exaggerated high opinion of these his theological views,
and you will understand that his notions concerning the
ultimate constitution of matter cannot be treated seriously
as possessing any scientific value. They are theories based
upon insufficient data, or we might almost say on pure
imagination. Though Newton's Principia is of great im-
portance as a definite formulation of the solution of a prob-
lem which had been matured in his time, to present his
views of matter as a contribution to science is quite mis-
leading.

When Lord Kelvin visited America he was interviewed
by a sage newspaper reporter who wanted an authoritative
statement concerning his view of the vortex theory, and
Lord Kelvin who had probably been often bored by similar
requests simply answered, "It is a mere theory," and so
the reporter indulged in extravagant language as to the
modesty of the English scientist who spoke of his most
famous discovery as a mere hypothesis. The truth is that
it was a mere hypothesis, for it is not yet a formula cover-
ing facts. It is the attempt to explain certain facts for
which we have not yet enough data. That Lord Kelvin's
theory is not only ingenious, but that it is very helpful, is
conceded by all who utilize his suggestion as a working

1 Welt a. d. V., I, 25; II, 58, 86 (2d ed., 88). The dispute anent the prior-
ity of the invention of the integral in mathematics might find a true solution
in the proposition that the first idea came from Leibnitz's fertile brain, to
whom it was suggested by his monadology, the theory of infinitesimal par-
ticles, while Newton appears to have applied it to the computation of gravi-
tating bodies and thus reduced it to exact mathematical concepts. Duhring in
his Kritischc Geschichte der Philosophic, pp. 353, is inclined to side with New-
ton against Leibnitz.

* See Enc. Brit., s. v. "Newton." XVII, 440 ff.

236 THE MONIST.

hypothesis and to speak of it as "moribund," creates the
suspicion that Mrs. Warren has not grasped its real sig-
nificance.

There is a difference between theory and truth which
is this: A theory is a tentative statement of a truth; it is
a working hypothesis, temporarily made and awaiting veri-
fication, while a truth is a description of a certain set of
features or of an interrelation of phenomena which covers
the entire range of facts.

THE LAW OF CAUSATION.

As an important misconception we will mention Mrs.
Fiske Warren's interpretation of causality. She speaks
of "the law of causality" as "gradually being excluded
from science, which more and more contents itself with
description." She says, "it still has a respectable reputa-
tion. But is it an accurate law? What it asserts is this:
Reproduce all the conditions of a certain phenomenon, that
phenomenon will reappear." It would lead too far to here
renew the discussion of the law of causality. I will only
refer to former expositions of mine, especially in discus-
sions with Professor Ernst Mach.3

The law of causation has not been replaced by descrip-
tion. It has always been description, except that the term
"description" was not introduced until Kirchhoff defined
mechanics as an exhaustive and concise description of mo-
tion. What Kirchhoff eliminates is the notion of meta-
physical factors behind motion, which have sometimes been
dignified with the name "cause," but the scholars who
used this metaphysical name "cause" did not mean cause
at all; they meant "reason," and their notion of reason
was based on a distorted view of natural law which then

8 The Surd of Metaphysics, pp. 119-130. Cf. "Mach's Philosophy," Monist,
XVI, 350-352. See also Fundamental Problems, 79-109; and Primer of Phi-
losophy, 137-172. For a treatment of the Hume-Kantian problem of causa-
tion, see Kant's Prolegomena, especially pp. 198 ff.

THE ROCK OF AGES. 237

was not conceived as a uniformity but as a metaphysical
entity behind phenomena.

In former discussions of the problem of causation I
have pointed out that "a cause" is always a motion, an
event, an occurrence, which in a system of conditions
changes the arrangement, and results in a new state of
things commonly called "the effect." Accordingly the law
of cause and effect is the law of transformation. It de-
scribes a series of successive changes, the start of which in
the system of our investigation we call "a cause," the end
"an effect"; and it goes without saying that the effect in
its turn may again be a cause, and we thus have a succes-
sion of changes which represent causes and effects in an
interlinked concatenation.

Without going into further details, I will only say that
Hume's famous investigations of causation have missed the
mark in so far as he denned cause and effect as "objects
following each other," instead of treating them as two
phases of one and the same process; thus he could not
understand the necessary connection between strychnine
and the dead mouse.

After all, the law of causation is not being excluded
from science. It is nothing more nor less than another
aspect of the famous law of the conservation of matter and
energy.

Speaking of the law of the conservation of matter we
must bear in mind that matter is to be used in the more
general sense of substance, not in its limited definition of
mass and volume; for certain facts, now well established,
teach us to look upon ponderable matter as subject to or-
igin and destruction. We have reasons to assume that new
matter originates in some nebulas of the starry heavens,
in due succession of the Mendeljeff series, according to their
atomic weight, while the discovery of radium suggests a
final dissolubility of chemical atoms. The new view does

238 THE MONIST.

not upset the law of conservation of substance, for we
assume that the elements thus formed in the celestial re-
torts of nebulas are due to a condensation of the ether,
or whatever name we may give to the primordial world-
stuff.

POINTS OF REFERENCE.

If the law of causation were really what Mrs. Fiske
Warren says it is, viz., "Reproduce all conditions of a cer-
tain phenomenon, that phenomenon will reappear," it would
be useless even as a working hypothesis; for, as Mrs.
Warren truly explains, we can never reproduce the very
same conditions the second time, and this she proclaims in
the most exaggerated terms in spite of her former ex-
planation of the significance of abstraction. Our method
of science consists in eliminating all accidentals and con-
fining the attention to essential features. In order to prove
her case she, following the example of Poincare, points
out some accidental features and thus shows that the repe-
tition of the same event is impossible.

Poincare here makes the same mistake into which Her-
bert Spencer falls in his First Principles, where he attempts
to prove that the simplest phenomena of motion are un-
knowable. He succeeds only by a blunder. He omits the
first essential condition of describing a motion, — he leaves
out a point of reference. If a captain walks on deck of
his ship, from east to west and the ship is moving in the
opposite direction at the same rate, is he moving or stand-
ing still? This conundrum is produced only by muddling
up the issues and projecting our own confusion into the
world of objective facts. If I promise to return to the
Pantheon in Paris on a certain day and hour, I mean that
place with reference to our geography and not the very
same spot in the solar system or even the stellar universe.
The very definition of the hour and day implies incidentally

THE ROCK OF AGES. 239

a changed position of the earth with reference to the sun,
and the identity of the spot is determined by the accepted
meaning of language ; the introduction of astronomical re-
lations would be mere quibbling.

THE STABILITY OF TRUTH.

In conclusion I will say: It is not true that "over and
over again the fundamental 'truths' have been superseded
and buried under fresh growth." The real truths of sci-
ence, the uniformities of nature, are descriptions of the es-
sential features of certain sets of facts, methodically sys-
tematized. They are never superseded, but each of them
constitutes a KTT)/*CI es act, a possession that has come to
stay, and which will be useful as a foundation for further
inquiry.*

The reason why there is a lack of appreciation of the
systematic nature of science, is most likely due to a lack
of philosophic training, which in its turn is due to the
prevalence of metaphysical and other faulty philosophies
such as are sometimes taught even in the foremost and
most renowned universities. In order to understand the
systematic character of science we must learn to appre-
ciate the paramount significance of form and formal
thought, for here lies the real problem of the foundation
of science.

The formal sciences give us a key to nature; they en-
able us to construct systems of reference which can be
utilized for describing events under observation in terms
of measuring and counting, or, generally speaking, by a
description of their formal relations. The formal element
in thought as well as in objective reality is the connecting
link that overbridges the chasm between subject and ob-

4 A summary of the author's view is stated very briefly in the introduction
to the little book Philosophy as a Science, published by the Open Court Pub-
lishing Company.

24O THE MONIST.

ject and which furnishes us with the key by which we may
scientifically comprehend nature.

The view here presented appears to me as the only ten-
able interpretation of the nature of science. Neither the
extreme empiricists nor the Kantian school have offered
a satisfactory solution. The empiricists who are at present
in the ascendancy fail to see the systematic nature of sci-
ence, and the Kantian school had the misfortune of finding
a wrong expounder to the English speaking world in the
philosopher Hamilton. His misconstruction of the Kantian
a priori changed the Kantian school in England into a
metaphysical philosophy involving some inferences which
were quite foreign to Kant himself.

The empiricists on the other hand, having a wrong
conception of Kant's a priori, lost the truth of his philos-
ophy, and instead of understanding the nature of certitude,
of consistency, of a systematic method, they produced a
kind of evidence by accumulation of details, thereby miss-
ing the essential and characteristic point of science. The
only foundation of science is to be sought in a philosophy of
pure form.

SYSTEM THE AIM OF SCIENCE.

System is the backbone of science, and system is the
result of the formal sciences. The latter have been gained
through abstraction and constitute what is commonly called
"reason." The purely formal aspect of things makes it
possible to create purely formal systems of thought such
as arithmetic, geometry, and logic. They are a priori in
the Kantian sense. They are subjective or purely mental,
but serve as models for any object of investigation, be it
purely imaginary or actual, merely possible, potential or
real, and thus they can be used as means of reference for
describing any existence, real or imaginary, which is dom-
inated by consistency. Consistency in the realm of the

THE ROCK OF AGES. 24!

purely formal sciences produces that wonderful harmony
which we observe for instance in mathematics. Consist-
ency in nature produces what in a former article we have
called lawdom,5 a state of things called in German Gesets-
massigkeit, which makes it possible for certain facts of the
same class to be described as uniformities. Consistency
in action renders possible the rationality of living crea-
tures, enabling them to exercise choice, to make plans, and
carry out purposes.

Though many scientists look upon science, in the light
of Hume's skepticism, as the result of good chances, of
mere lucky haphazard successes, there is developing in the
present age a deeply rooted confidence that science is more
than the result of accidental guesses, and we believe that
we have produced the evidence of the attainment of scien-
tific certitude, the foundation of which is laid in the phi-
losophy of form.

But this confidence is of a broader nature and of a more
ancient date than is commonly granted. This same con-
fidence has accompanied man from the dawn of his ration-
ality and has found expression in his religion. The world
was never a chaos to man, but always the law-ordained cos-
mos, and this feature of cosmic order was pictured in man's
religion as a belief in a divinity of some kind, mostly as
a hierarchy of gods, and, in the theistic stage of religious
development, simply as God.

Religion accordingly appears in this conception as an
instinctive formulation of a trust in the world-order, and
this world-order, which the philosophy of form has been
able to trace, constitutes the bed-rock of all our thoughts
and aspirations in religion as well as in science. In this
sense we can truly say that here lies the Rock of Ages.

EDITOR.

' See The Monist, XX, p. 36.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION.

IN the discussions of religion, whether technical or pop-
ular, one frequently comes upon expressions such as the
religious nature of man, the religious sense, the religious
impulse, the religious instinct. But upon careful analysis,
it is exceedingly difficult to discover that any of these ex-
pressions are used with precision or consistency. In this
respect the professional psychologists are scarcely more
satisfactory than the theologians. The tendency, however,
of the psychologists is to establish a definition of terms
which simplifies the task of determining whether religion
is to be described by these terms. For example, it is clear
that religion cannot be ascribed to any unique faculty for
the simple reason that modern psychology does not recog-
nize the existence of unique faculties of any kind. Neither
can it be called a "sense/' for the term sense is limited to
those organic functions which are known as the sense of
sight, hearing, pressure, temperature, and the rest. In
the same way the words impulse and instinct are gradually
attaining a specific usage which in the nature of tire case
precludes their application to religion. Both impulse and
instinct are employed more and more to signify motor re-
actions ; impulse indicating the dynamic, spontaneous char-
acter of an act, and instinct referring also to the organiza-
tion of movements in the attainment of definite ends or in
manifesting characteristic attitudes, such as fear. Thus
the random movements of the infant express impulses, but
grasping and sucking are usually classed as instincts. Cer-
tainly religion is not a motor reaction of this type.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 243

The phrase religious consciousness seems more prom-
ising, but this is largely because the word consciousness is
inclusive enough and sufficiently flexible to escape the ob-
jections made against the other terms. Whatever else re-
ligion may be, it is some form of consciousness. This is
the most general term which psychology employs, and
therefore to speak of the religious consciousness puts the
whole burden back upon the adjective religious, and we
scarcely get nearer a solution of the problem than before,
except that we have a designation for our subject which
is not beset by conflicting or confusing usage. The ques-
tion is then, What is the psychological basis and nature of
the religious consciousness ?

It may add force to the question to recall that for func-
tional psychology there is an indefinite variety of types of
consciousness — art consciousness, scientific consciousness,
civic consciousness, masculine consciousness, feminine con-
sciousness, race consciousness, class consciousness. Each
profession, trade, locality, family, or other group having
common interests tends to develop a consciousness in which
every member shares more or less keenly. One feels the
reality and force of these different kinds of conscious-
ness as one converses with men who possess them, men of
different professions and persons from different sections
of the country. Or, again, one immediately experiences
for himself the contrasted mental attitudes and psychical
functions when, in the course of the day, he goes from
his study to the dining-room, to the tennis court, to the
business street, to the hospital, to the concert, to the
place of worship. All these forms of consciousness are
definite and describable, and one is as real and as tan-
gible as another. They are manifestations of interests,
of habits, of customs. We never doubt their reality as
genuine experiences, and we do not question that activ-
ities which we only observe, without actively sharing,

244 THE MONIST.

involve definite forms of consciousness for those en-
gaged in them. Because I do not play golf, I cannot
deny that there is such a thing as golf consciousness in
those I observe pounding the white balls over the green
turf on a torrid day or eagerly discussing at dinner the
drives and foozles of their afternoon sport. This golf
consciousness is something in its own right. It is different
from tennis consciousness or bridge consciousness. It de-
velops its own social institutions, its heroes, its literature,
its code of etiquette, its advocates, its apologists, and its
fanatics. Taken in some such objective way, the religious
consciousness is obviously a tremendous reality in all races
and peoples. It is represented everywhere by ceremonials,
temples, sacred places, priests, traditions, saints and sages.

The definitions of this religious consciousness are no-
toriously various and partial. They represent special
phases or stages of religious experience. In intellectual
terms it is identified with the belief in spirits, in the super-
natural, in the infinite ; in terms of feeling, it is an emotion,
the feeling of dependence, the feeling of fear ; in terms of
the will it is a set of desires and of organized habits. This
diversity, representing different philosophical and tem-
peramental standpoints, has led Hoffding to assert that the
definition of religion is largely a matter of taste.

The statement offered here is, therefore, presented only
as a working suggestion to indicate at once the general
point of view and something of the scope of the religious
consciousness. First, religion, or the religious conscious-
ness, expresses man's craving for life and attaches su-
preme importance to those objects and activities upon
which the maintenance and furtherance of his life depend ;
second, the religious consciousness is social in its nature,
involving the welfare of the group and enveloping the
mind and will of the individual in a body of inherited cus-
tom. \ The elaboration of these two propositions will show

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 245

more fully what they signify. It will be convenient to
draw illustrations from primitive as well as developed
forms of religion. Use is made of primitive religions in
this connection because in them the phenomena are simpler
and are less complicated by the overgrowths and divergent
interests of civilization. Besides, the evolution of the
higher types of religion from these earlier stages is so ob-
vious to the student of the history of society that he sees
in the general structure and framework of primitive re-
ligion the main features of the later growths.

Take, then, the first proposition that the religious con-
sciousness expresses man's craving for life and attaches
supreme importance to those objects and activities upon
which the maintenance and furtherance of his life are felt
to depend. The most casual observer of religious phe-
nomena must be impressed with the fact that religion takes
itself with the utmost seriousness. It regards its prac-
tices and customs as matters involving the very sources
and conditions of life. Throughout the Bible, which in
this respect expresses the keynote of religion everywhere,
the assurance is that those who do the things enjoined
shall live and prosper, while those who refuse or neglect to
do them shall surely die.

After the law of the ten commandments the injunction
is added: "Ye shall walk in all the way which the Lord
your God hath commanded you, that ye may live, and that
it may be well with you, and that ye may prolong your
days in the land which ye shall possess. Hear therefore,
O Israel, and observe to do it ; that it may be well with thee,
and that ye may increase mightily, as the Lord, the God of
thy fathers, hath promised unto thee, in a land flowing with
milk and honey." There are also many passages like the
following: "Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thy-

246 THE MONIST.

self also in the Lord ; and he shall give thee the desires of
thine heart."

Religion is thus an expression of the most elemental
demand of the human being — the demand for existence,
for welfare, for success. It exalts those functions, habits,
objects, and customs whicn are felt to further life and
warns against whatever threatens it. Religion is identical
with the central biological impulse; with the will to live,
to affirm, to grow. It is natural, therefore, that the basal
instincts of human nature should be conspicuous and con-
trolling factors in religion, and the evidence is abundant
that this is the case. This is particularly clear in primi-
tive races where the fundamental instinctive reactions are
preserved in the ceremonials without qualification or apol-
ogy. The instinctive reactions are those involved in pre-
serving, perpetuating, and protecting life. They are the
instincts of getting food, of reproduction, and of resisting
and escaping danger.

The ceremonials are in large part the reproduction of
actions and situations experienced in the actual life of food
getting, courtship and war. If a people has totems, those
totems are the familiar animals and plants of the environ-
ment. They are or have been the staples of food, of sub-
sistence. The totems of Australia and of North America
are the commonplace necessities of life in those countries.
And the ceremonial of the totem, whether of fish or flower,
consists of dancing and mimetic movements typical of the
habits of the species. The leader usually wears a head
gear and his body is painted to make him resemble the
totem.

Spencer and Gillen give the following description of
the initiation ceremony of the eagle-hawk totem in Central
Australia. It was performed by two men, supposed to be
two eagle-hawks quarreling over a piece of flesh, repre-
sented by the downy mass in one man's mouth. "At first

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 247

they remained squatting on their shields, moving their
arms up and down, and continuing this action which was
supposed to represent the flapping of wings, they jumped
off the shields and with their bodies bent up and arms ex-
tended and flapping, began circling round each other as if
each were afraid of coming to close quarters. Then they
stopped and moved a step or two at a time, first to one
side and then to the other, until finally they came to close
quarters and began fighting with their heads for the pos-
session of the piece of meat. This went on for some time,
and then two men stepped out from amongst the audience
and took away the Churinga (sacred sticks used in the
head dress) which were a great weight and must have
caused a considerable strain on the head, especially in the
great heat of the afternoon sun, for it must be remembered
that it was now well on into the summer. Then once more
they began going round and round each other flapping
wings, jumping up and falling back just like fighting birds,
until finally they again came to close quarters, and the
attacking man at length seized with his teeth the piece of
meat and wrenched it out of the other man's mouth."1

The ceremony of the plum-tree totem was acted by four
men in the following way. "First of all one man came up
to where the audience was sitting by the Parr a (a mound
of earth). He pretended to knock plums down and to
eat them, and after a short time he sat down amongst the
audience. Then two others came up, one of whom re-
mained standing, while he knocked down imaginary plums,
which were eaten by the other man, who seated himself
on the ground. This over, both of the men went and
joined the audience, and the fourth man came and went
through the same pretence of knocking down and eating
plums."*

1 Spencer and Gillen : The Native Tribes of Central Australia, p. 296.
' Spencer and Gillen, Ibid., p. 320.

248 THE MONIST.

The ceremonials of all peoples are of this general type :
they reflect the occupations, the life struggles and the
central satisfactions of mankind. Rice is the staff of life
to the Malays, and their rites are replicas of the habits
developed in its cultivation and use. The Eskimos live
largely by seal and fish, and the activities involved in their
capture and use are models of their rituals. In similar
ways, the planting, harvesting and preparation of the maize
by the American Indians, the digging of yams by the
West Africans, the use of the date palm by the Arabs,
determine the forms of their religious celebrations. Every
great interest of a people is reflected in its religion, and
where the religion is indigenous and uncorrupted, no ex-
traneous elements enter. "There are no tiger-gods where
there are no tigers," and no rice-gods where there is no
rice. Mingling of races, conquest and decadence may ob-
scure this basic fact, but in undisturbed native peoples the
general principle is clear. Even in mixed and migratory
tribes the persistence of the framework of old rites and
myths gives it confirmation.

The Todas, a small tribe in the Nilgiri Hills of south-
ern India, furnish a striking illustration of the economic
determination of religion.

"The milking and churning operations of the dairy
form the basis of the greater part of the religious ritual
of the Todas. The lives of the people are largely devoted
to their buffaloes, and the care of certain of these animals,
regarded as more sacred than the rest, is associated with
much ceremonial. The sacred animals are attended by
men especially set apart who form the Toda priesthood,
and the milk of the sacred animals is churned in dairies
which may be regarded as the Toda temples and are so
regarded by the people themselves. The ordinary opera-
tions of the dairy have become a religious ritual and cere-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 249

monies of a religious character accompany nearly every
important incident in the lives of the buffaloes."3

The Semites were originally nomadic, and this accounts
for the conspicuous place which animals hold throughout
their religion. "The main lines of sacrificial worship were
fixed before any part of the Semitic stock had learned agri-
culture and adopted cereal food as its ordinary diet."
Therefore cereals and fruits never had more than a second-
ary place in Semitic ritual, but those which were most con-
spicuous in religious ceremonies, "were also the chief vege-
table constituents of man's daily food," namely, meal, wine,
and oil.4

The instincts centering in the sexual life are in certain
respects more focal and dominant in religion than those
of food. In these instincts the life of the species is involved.
The individual asserts here a will greater than his own.
The supreme demand of nature is for the new generation.
Throughout the whole scale of life the event safeguarded
by the most urgent impulses is that of procreation. When
that is accomplished, the parent is of value only in pro-
tecting and nurturing the young. Nature demands every
risk, every effort to effect the creation and to provide for
the welfare of the new generation. Religion, as the deep-
est and most comprehensive expression of the will to live,
is therefore an embodiment, in more or less direct and ob-
vious ways, of the sexual instinct. One of the immediate,
objective proofs of this is the fact that the crises of the
sexual life are among the most conspicuous occasions of
religious ceremonials. These occur at puberty, at mar-
riage, and at childbirth. In primitive races, at puberty,
when the sexual instinct appears, the youth is started
through the long and trying initiation rites which are not
complete until he is a member of the tribe. Again, at the

•W. H. R. Rivers, The Todas, p. 3&

4 W. Robertson Smith, The Religion of the Semites, pp. 219, 222. Cf. Barton,
Sketch of Semitic Origins, Chapter VII, "Yahwe."

25O THE MONIST.

time of marriage, elaborate ceremonies are observed to
remove the taboos between the sexes, and to insure the
fruitfulness of the union. The bride and groom are ac-
companied by processions to ward off evil influences. Nuts,
flour or rice may be thrown upon them. Various means
of concealment are employed to thwart the evil eye. For
this, disguises and veils are employed, and in many coun-
tries, the bridegroom never sees the bride until the mar-
riage is consummated. Obligatory customs are also uni-
versal with reference to childbirth. The newborn child and
the mother are taboo and are secluded from the camp until
a period of time has elapsed during which the prescribed
observances must be faithfully kept. One scarcely needs
to refer to the perversions and exaggerations of this sex
principle which have often characterized religious customs.
The extent of Phallic worship and sacred harlotry are,
however, evidences of the fact that religion has been liable
to abnormal developments through elements native to it.

In these two respects, then, religion shows itself to be
the manifestation of the affirmation and consecration of
life: the chief objects of food and the activities concerned
with them are sacred and so also are the organs and the
functions of sex.

The second proposition is that the religious conscious-
ness is social in its nature and concerns the welfare of the
group. Here, again, the fact is clearly illustrated in primi-
tive peoples. Their solidarity within the tribal group is
well understood. It was not a consciously attained and
rationally sustained social life, but it was so real that every
important concern was an affair of the group. So close
and so literal was this tribal organism that the whole of it
was involved in the deeds of every individual. This is
familiarly illustrated by the law of blood revenge, by which
the whole tribe was held responsible for the misdeeds of
any member. Dudley Kidd characterizes this solidarity

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 251

among the Kafirs as follows : "A Kafir feels that the 'frame
that binds him in' extends to the clan. The sense of soli-
darity of the family in Europe is thin and feeble compared
to the full-blooded sense of corporate union of the Kafir
clan. The claims of the clan entirely swamp the rights of
the individual. The system of tribal solidarity, which has
worked so well in its smoothness that it might satisfy the
utmost dreams of the socialist, is a standing proof of the
sense of corporate union of the clan. In olden days a man
did not have any feeling of personal injury when a chief
made him work for white men and then told him to give
all or nearly all, of his wages to his chief; the money was
kept within the clan, and what was the good of the clan
was the good of the individual and vice versa."

Religion is the supreme expression of this social con-
sciousness. All of its ceremonials are corporate in char-
acter, being conducted either by the group as a whole or by
publicly recognized leaders. These ceremonials are social
also in a deeper sense than being the possession of all the
existing members of the tribe. They have an immemorial
history and are felt to be shared by the ancestors as well
as by the living. They are therefore in the highest degree
inviolable. The welfare and efficiency of the tribe are
bound up with the scrupulous and reverent observance of
the ancient rites. The individual who participates in them
does not dare to speak of them or to employ their myths
and prayers except in the manner and on the occasions
which the group customs allow. The things with which
the religious ceremonials deal are, as we have seen, the
things of common concern, such as the food supply, the
regulation of marriage and the care of children, the conduct
of war, protection against disease, and unusual natural
events like floods and drought. An interesting evidence
of the social character of religion is seen in the fact that
the recognized deities are those spirits which are identified

252 THE MONIST.

with an organized human group. William Robertson
Smith points out that "the difference between gods and
demons among primitive Semitic peoples lies not in their
nature and power,. . . .but in their relations to man. The
jinn would make very passable gods, if they only had a
circle of human dependents and worshipers ; and conversely
a god who loses his worshipers falls back into the ranks
of the demons, as a being of vague and indeterminate pow-
ers, who having no fixed personal relations to men, is on
the whole to be regarded as an enemy" (p. 121). The
same relation is seen in other stages of development. For
example, the great gods embody the qualities of character
which have been most completely established in the com-
mon social experience. The lesser gods represent local
or intermittent, partially organized interests of the com-
mon mind.

On the inner psychological side this social character
of the religious consciousness is identical with the neigh-
borly sympathetic attitude. It springs up quite naturally
in any group which has common experiences and whose
members are mutually dependent. It has its most original
and primary development in the family. Now the inmost
bond of the family life is that which exists between the
mother and the child. It is this which has given stability
and consistency to the family and resulted in the per-
manence of the relation between the parents. Instead of
the care of the child resulting from the permanence of
relations between parents, it is probable that the parents
were held together by the care of the child. It was orig-
inally the conditions under which woman was compelled to
live while caring for the child which made her peculiarly
the center of the social attitude and enabled her to foster
and radiate the social atmosphere. On this account early
society grew up around the mother and the child. This
is shown in the fact that descent is first reckoned in the

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 253

female line. The children belong to the mother's family
and not to the father's. The husband gave up his own
people and went to live with the family of the bride. More
than this, woman became through her settled life the cre-
ator and owner of property. In this way she exerted con-
trol over the social situation, and the feminine quality of
sympathy and love became the chief element of the con-
structive social consciousness.

This social consciousness is, after all, the organizing,
controlling power in human life. It maintains its continu-
ity through successive generations. It molds all docile in-
dividuals to its will, and crushes or excludes those who will
not conform. The newborn child is submitted to its author-
ity and is closely held within its prescribed customs through
life. It has the force of external law and of final authority.
This will of the group is objectified in agents regarded as
over and above the group itself. They embody the sacred-
ness, permanence and legislative sanctions of the abiding
social consciousness. This common consciousness, ex-
pressed in vivid sensuous symbols, it may be, of totem
animals, or of great personalities, and in dramatic cere-
monials, is constantly renewed and strengthened in the
most vital experiences of the group. All of the interests
and values of life are felt to center in the tribal symbols,
the ceremonial observances. All the arts of speech, music,
personal decoration, and the dance are contributing ele-
ments in the ceremonial. There is no art or knowledge,
law or labor, known to the age which is not comprehended
in the religious observances. In primitive peoples none
of these interests exists independently. Life is of one piece
and it is religious. It seeks for the great means of life and
does so through the one organized will of the group. This
social consciousness extends over the most private and
seemingly individualistic activities. For example, among
the natives of southeast Australia Howitt found that hun-

254 THE MONIST.

ters who kill game at a distance from the camp observe
the strictest rules with reference to the distribution of the
parts of the animal. Different regulations exist for differ-
ent game, but all of them are minute and specific like the
following rules for distributing the native bear : "Self, left
ribs; father, right hind leg; mother, left hind leg; elder
brother, right forearm ; younger brother, left forearm. The
elder sister gets the backbone, and the younger, the liver.
The right ribs are given to the father's brother; a piece
of the flank to the hunter's mother's brother ; and the head
goes to the young men's camp."

The religions of civilized peoples like those of primitive
peoples have preserved the same general biological and
social character. Their energizing impulses are those of
the natural instinctive tendencies to maintain life, but with
greater elaboration and idealization. In the teaching of
Jesus it is assumed that the faithful will have their neces-
sities providentially provided. Food and raiment are
among the things conceived as fundamental in the demands
of religion, and one must have faith in securing them,
without worry or anxious care. The petition for the com-
ing of the kingdom in the great prayer of Christendom is
followed by the prayer for daily bread. Religion never
gets away from this primal necessity, though it does take
it up into an idealized and extended usage. It seeks the
bread of life in the fullest sense. Food and drink are the
materials of the communion service. This pervasive im-
agery drawn from the most elemental experiences of the
natural man is unmistakable. The water of life, the foun-
tain of life, the river of life, the tree of life are yet the most
suggestive terms concerning even the highest needs of our
human nature. What will a man give in exchange for his
life? is the challenging cry. It is notable that the modern
as well as the ancient religious consciousness is brought
to sharp definition in great crises of famine, flood, pesti-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 255

lence, and war in which the very existence of the people is
endangered.

But it may not be so easily admitted that the reproduc-
tive instinct is vital in the religious consciousness. Here,
however, there is much evidence of the objective kind em-
bodied in our customs. Our religious practices, like those
of earlier stages, are particularly in evidence at marriage,
at childbirth, and at the time of puberty when the youth
are confirmed or otherwise initiated into the group. The
profound interest which the Christian community takes in
children is an expression, however unconsciously it may be
so, of the reproductive instinct.

The direct evidence, however, for considering the sex
instinct basal in religion is the fact that the religious con-
sciousness is attained naturally and simultaneously with
the maturing of that instinct, and that certain of its mani-
festations appear directly and in a decisive manner at the
heart of religious experience and religious customs.

That adolescence is the period in which religion be-
comes vital to the individual, all students of the subject
agree. The results of the detailed investigations of thou-
sands of cases by Starbuck, Coe and Hall confirm this.
The universal practice of the liturgical churches in re-
ceiving youth as full members at this period is impressive
evidence that this is the natural and normal time of re-
ligious awakening. The practice of the natural races in
initiating their children at this epoch adds world-wide and
world-old usage in support of the close relation of this in-
stinct to the social attitude so characteristic of all religion.

Not only is adolescence the time when the reproductive
instinct and religion develop in the individual, but there
is evidence that religion arises in and through the maturing
of the instinct taken in its full significance. Up to this
time the individual is self-centered, and possesses little
spontaneous or deep interest in other persons. His attitude

256 THE MONIST.

toward organized institutions and groups of people, even
his own family, is characteristically external, formal, and
fragmentary. But now he takes an interest in others, be-
comes affectionate, sensitive and sympathetic. The urg-
ency, range, and reconstructive power of these attitudes
cannot be accounted for by any instruction the youth re-
ceives. They are in fact quite independent of instruction
and occur without it. The only explanation of the strength
of these new interests is that they have an instinctive basis
much deeper than the conscious will or intent of the indi-
vidual. The transformation of adolescence is from an in-
dividualistic to a social life and the new psychological qual-
ity displayed is that of sensitiveness to the opinion of
others — a sensitiveness which is most direct and charac-
teristic with reference to the opinion of the opposite sex.

G. Stanley Hall has recounted in detail the development
of adolescent self-consciousness in reference to the opinion
of others. "The boy suddenly realizes that his shoes are
not blacked, or his coat is worn and dirty, his hair un-
brushed, his collar, necktie, or cap not of the latest pattern,
while girls love to flaunt new fashions and color combina-
tions and have a new sense for the toilet." Manners also
afford opportunity for expression of the new self-conscious-
ness and means of bidding for good opinion. There is
pleasure in playing roles, assuming poses, cultivating
moods, modifying one's speech, in pronunciation, choice
of words, and often in imitation of the vocabulary of fa-
vorite companions or teachers. Athletic feats, pride in
physical development, trials of strength and absorbing
interest in their 'records' characterize boys in this epoch.
The emotions of anger, fear, and pity are intensified and
relate to a much wider range of experiences, particularly
to those of personal relations.

The youth in his teens is sensitive to the approval and
disapproval of his companions to a degree which exceeds

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 257

any sensitivity due to reflection or to custom. Nothing but
the operation of powerful instincts is sufficient to explain
it, and that which distinguishes this period of youth pre-
eminently is the appearance of the sex-instinct. With the
ripening of this instinct, sensitivity to the opinion of others
reaches its height. The normal individual is profoundly
moved by his regard for the opinion of his set, that is, by
the public opinion of his group. The seemingly heartless
egoistic impulses of earlier years are restrained and tem-
pered by eagerness to win favor and respect and by con-
cern for the comfort and welfare of another. It is in the
warmth and passion of this maturing instinct that the dis-
position of affection, social cooperation and genuine altru-
ism develop. As at no previous time the individual feels
an imperative, consuming passion to devote himself to an-
other to the limit of his powers. No labor, danger, or
sacrifice is too great to win the one he loves. This phe-
nomenon affords endless material for poetry, fiction, and
art. On the side of the difficulties encountered, jealousies
engendered, and disappointments suffered, it is the theme
of the drama and tragedy. In the common experience of
average individuals, no other interest surpasses that which
lovers feel in each other ; and all people instinctively share
this feeling with an intensity which permits no doubt that
here is reenacted the most important event in the history
of the individual and the race. It is through this affection
and respect for the opposite sex that the whole complex
system of social ends and institutions establishes its strong-
est hold upon the individual. Through it the individual is
socialized and becomes identified with the welfare of others
by his own inmost desire. In this way the home is estab-
lished. To maintain the home, the shop and various in-
dustries exist. Schools are organized for the training of
the children, and the state springs up in the coordination
and control of all these interdependent interests. One is

258 THE MONIST.

thus placed in the midst of the vast social order of the
material and ideal activities of mankind. His life is thereby
disciplined, moralized and spiritualized.

It is this regard for the opinion of others which makes
one amenable to the customs of society and brings one into
relation and cooperation with the conventions, fashions, du-
ties and ideals of society. Without this susceptibility to the
opinions and example of others a person is lacking in the
essential quality of sociability. He is unresponsive to class
restraints and stimuli, and shares to a degree the irrespon-
sible and antisocial attitude of the criminal. The sexual
instinct, normally operative, radiates this sympathetic, uni-
fying disposition and produces groups characterized by
intimate association and mutual support. It is the founda-
tion of the notable gregariousness of mankind. As it gives
rise to larger groups, it becomes idealized in the relations
of blood brotherhood among savages and in the societies
of fellowship and practical endeavor among civilized peo-
ples.

The influence of the sexual instinct in developed social
groups is further seen in the fact that these groups con-
tinue to employ the technique of the sexual life. They
appeal to the individual much after the method of court-
ship, and he is moved to respond by similar reactions. When
the nation seeks volunteer recruits for its army and navy,
it displays before the youth attractive pictures of military
life, of uniforms, brilliant regiments, exploits of adventure
and travel. Even the suggestion of danger on the battle-
field is a claim upon the valor and gallantry which the re-
public, symbolized by a female figure, demands of her lov-
ers among brave youth. The same technique of display,
invitation, coyness, and modesty appears upon a vast scale
when one nation visits another with a fleet of ships or
entertains her visitors at a magnificent "world's exposi-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 259

tion." The etiquette of nations is built upon the manners
of my lady's drawing room.

The type of social adjustment characteristic of the
sexes is still more obvious in religious groups and in the
means used by such groups to win the devotion of individ-
uals. Among the members of a religious body there exist
ties of spiritual kinship supported by the strongest senti-
ments. Conspicuous in the phraseology of Christian
Churches is that of the family. The Church is the bride
of Christ. The members are children of God; brothers
and sisters to each other. They are born into this spiritual
family, having been conceived by the Holy Spirit. Love
is the pervading bond in all these relations. The virtues
of Christian character are those which spring from love:
sympathy, patience, forgiveness, fidelity, self-sacrifice, char-
ity. The emotional attitudes aroused by the services of
the churches are the tender, melting moods in which the
will acquiesces in the appeal for love and comradeship.

The derived character of the technique by which religion
makes its appeal to the individual is in keeping with the
organizing principle of religious groups. Professor Thomas
has aptly described this process. "The appeal made during
a religious revival to an unconverted person has psycho-
logically some resemblance to the attempt of the male to
overcome the hesitancy of the female. In each case the
will has to be set aside and strong suggestive means used;
and in both cases the appeal is not of the conflict type, but
of an intimate, sympathetic and pleading kind. In the
effort to make a moral adjustment it consequently turns
out that a technique is used which was derived originally
from sexual life, and the use, so to speak, of the sexual
machinery for a moral adjustment involves, in some cases,
the carrying over into the general process of some sexual
manifestations. The emotional form used and the emo-

26O THE MONIST.

tional states aroused are not entirely stripped of their
sexual content."5

This controlling, organizing instinct which emerges
with full power in adolescence is accompanied by an awak-
ening of mental life on every side. The senses become
more acute ; the imagination is developed in new directions,
with a scope and energy which often overwhelm the youth
in a confusion of aspirations and longings ; the will, in the
form of urgent ambitions, is roused to resolve upon great
enterprises such as patriotic service and social reforms;
the intellect is stimulated to great activity, to criticism,
analysis, careful reasoning and often to constructive pro-
duction. It is the period of idealism, the age in which the
ends set up for attainment are remote and vast. These
ends are also ideal in the sense of being altruistic and dis-
interested. The same disregard of mere personal comfort
or success which leads the youth to give himself with such
abandon to win a lady's hand, is shown in devotion to other
interests in which his will is once enlisted. The statisics
concerning the aspirations of youth show that the tendency
to go outside personal knowledge and choose historical
and public characters as ideals was greatly augmented at
puberty, when also the heroes of philanthropy showed
marked gain in prominence.6 Earl Barnes remarks sig-
nificantly, "No one can consider the regularity with which
local ideals die out and are replaced by world ideals without
feeling that he is in the presence of law-abiding forces."
Dr. Thurber's replies from thousands of children in New
York with reference to what they wanted to do when grown
showed that "the desire for character increased through-
out, but rapidly after twelve, and the impulse to do good
to the world, which had risen slowly from nine, mounted
sharply after thirteen." From his survey of many investi-

5 Thomas: Sex and Society, 115 f.

*G. S. Hall: Adolescence, II, 387. Summarizes studies by Earl Barnes,
Thurber, Kline.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BASIS OF RELIGION. 26l

gations, G. Stanley Hall concludes that with reference to
the choice of ideals during childhood and youth: "Civic
virtues certainly rise; material and utilitarian considera-
tions do not seem to rise much, if at all, at adolescence, and
in some data decline. Position, fame, honor, and general
greatness increase rapidly, but moral qualities rise highest
and also fastest just before and near puberty and continue
to increase later yet. By these choices both sexes, but girls
far most, show increasing admiration of ethical and social
qualities."7

By reason of instinctive awakening to the larger social
interests, and by virtue of greater mental power for form-
ing and following comprehensive ideals, youth is the period
for the choice of life-occupations, for the development of
patriotism, social reforms and religious enthusiasms. At
this age the whole nature is full of energy which creates
boundless faith in the possibility of wonderful achieve-
ments. Idealism, in the strict sense, that is, vital interest
in distant and difficult, even Utopian humanitarian enter-
prises, is natural to this age. There is great enthusiasm
for heroes, patriots, and religious leaders. It is the time
when youths enlist in the army, when they devote them-
selves to social service, to foreign missions and to philan-
thropy and charity.

A general summary of this discussion may be briefly
made. There is no single instinct or faculty in human
nature to which the religious consciousness can be attrib-
uted. It is rather the result of the development and inter-
action of the primal instincts. Such a development is pe-
culiar to man, although he shares these primal instincts
with the lower animals. Man possesses a larger brain and
more flexible nervous organism through which he is better
able to profit by experience. He has gradually attained
through a long and tedious process of trial and error, of

T G. Stanley Hall : Adolescence, II, 392.

262 THE MONIST.

experimentation and reflection, an elaborate equipment of
practical wisdom, of tools, inventions and social attitudes
in which his native instincts secure an expression and a
fulfilment far beyond anything possible for the lower ani-
mals. He has substituted for the irregular, uncertain
means of securing food in savage life, the settled, depend-
able processes of agriculture and modern industrialism and
business enterprise. He has also discovered the value of
cooperative, sympathetic attitudes as contrasted with the
clannish, exclusive spirit of earlier stages. Thus the tender,
intimate, unifying sentiments are being consciously ex-
tended to all human beings without distinction of race or
class. There is developing a consciousness within whole
nations and within mankind as a world-wide family and
brotherhood, the inner, controlling motive of which is the
elemental craving for life, but for a life richer and fuller
and longer, in which all men everywhere may share. It was
in the demands of his group life and in the dramatic cere-
monial representations of this corporate life that religion
controlled, restrained and elevated the life of primitive
man. From the working of this common life sprang his
notions of divine beings, and through these notions his
ancestral customs and ideals of life were mediated to each
generation again. The same psychological process op-
erates to-day increasingly clarified, organized and freed
from superstition. Compared with those of early man the
supreme ideals of our historic and contemporaneous life
are vaster, more attractive, more adjustable to the deep
needs of our nature. But whatever the degree of refine-
ment, it is just this elaboration and idealization of the
primal instinctive interests and the accompanying sense
of supreme values which everywhere constitute the life of
religion. EDWARD SCRIBNER AMES, PH. D.

UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD.

THE FIVE DISCIPLES OF JESUS.

IN the Talmud Sanhedrin 430 we read: "Our Rabbis have
taught, Jesus had five disciples — Matthai, Nakkai,
Netzer, Buni and Thodah. They brought Matthai (before
the judges). He said, 'Must Matthai be killed? For it is
written (Ps. xlii. 2) : Matthai (= when) shall (I) come and
appear before God.' They said to him, 'Yes, Matthai must
be killed, for it is written (Ps. xli. 5) : Matthai (— when)
shall (he) die and his name perish.' They brought Nakkai.
He said to them, 'Must Nakkai be killed ? For it is written
(Exod. xxiii. 7) : The Naki (= innocent) and the right-
eous thou shalt not slay.' They said to him, 'Yes, Nakkai
must be killed, for it is written (Ps. x. 8) : In secret places
doth he slay Naki (= the innocent).' They brought
Netzer. He said, 'Must Netzer be killed? For it is written
(Isa. xi. i): Netzer (= a branch) shall spring up from
his roots.' They said to him, 'Yes, Netzer must be killed.
For it is written (Isa. xiv. 19): Thou art cast forth out
of thy grave like an abominable Netzer (= branch).'
They brought Buni. He said to them, 'Must Buni be
killed? For it is written (Ex. iv. 22) : B'ni (=my son),
my first born Israel/ They said to him, 'Yes, Buni must
be killed. For it is written (Ex. iv. 23): Behold, I slay
Bincha (= thy son) thy first born.' They brought Thodah.
He said to them, 'Must Thodah be killed ? For it is written
(Ps. c. i) : A Psalm for Thodah (= thanksgiving).' They

264 THE MONIST.

said to him, Yes, Thodah must be killed, for it is written
(Ps. 1. 23) : Whoso sacrificeth Thodah (= thanksgiving)
honoreth me/ '

No Christian tradition exists which specifies any five
out of the Twelve as having met with such a fate. But the
fact that the five were called disciples of Jesus implies that
they were Christians, not that they were contemporaries
of Jesus. It is possible that the story refers to the perse-
cution of Christians under Bar Cocheba, and presents a
fantastic account of some incident of that persecution. The
fact that the martyrdom of these disciples is described on
the same page of the Talmud on which the execution of
Jesus at Lud (Lydda) is narrated, shows that it was a
Jewish and not a heathenish court which sentenced the dis-
ciples. On the other hand this Talmudic passage is one of
the many curious examples of the way in which the Scrip-
tures are applied by the rabbis. It is one of the strangest
specimens of transparent fiction, and of silly trifling with
the words of Scripture.

JACOB OF KEPHAR SAM A (SECHANJA).

Besides the five names given above the Talmud also
knows of another disciple of Jesus, Jacob of Kephar Sama,
who was known for his thaumaturgic power, which no
doubt led him to be placed in immediate relation with Jesus,
the master of sorcery, and which in his time caused a sen-
sation that was never afterwards to be forgotten. In the
Talmud this Jacob comes before us as a performer of mir-
acles and a teacher. For convenience' sake we divide the
matter, and treat

i. Jacob, the Performer of Miracles.

a. In the Tosephta Hullin II, 22, 23 we read : "The Case
of Rabbi El'azar ben Damah, Whom a Serpent Bit. —
There came in Jacob, a man of Kephar Sama, to cure him

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 265

in the name of Jeshua ben Pandira, but Rabbi Ishmael did
not allow it. He said, Thou art not permitted, Ben Da-
mah.' He said, 'I will bring thee a proof that he may heal
me.' But he had not finished bringing a proof when he
died. Rabbi Ishmael said, 'Happy art thou, Ben Damah,
for thou hast departed in peace, and hast not broken through
the ordinances of the wise ; for upon every one who breaks
through the fence of the wise, punishment comes at last,
as it is written (Eccles. x. 8) : Whoso breaketh a fence a
serpent shall bite him.' '

b. In Jerusalem Shabbath 14^ we read the same almost
word for word with the addition at the end : "The serpent
only bit him in order that a serpent might not bite him in
the future. And what could he (Ben Damah) have said?
( Lev. xviii. 5 ) : 'Which, if a man do, he shall live in them'
(i. e., not die in them)."

c. In Jerusalem Aboda Zara 4.od, 410, we find the same
as in a above, except that after the words "came in to cure
him," is added, "He said, 'we will speak to thee in the name
of Jeshu ben Pandira.' '

d. In the Babylonian Talmud Aboda Zara 276 we read
thus: "It happened that Ben Dama, son of Rabbi Ishmael's
sister, was bitten by a serpent. There came Jacob of Ke-
phar S'khanja to heal him, but Rabbi Ishmael would not
allow him. Ben Dama said, 'Rabbi Ishmael, my brother,
allow me to be healed by him, and I will bring thee a verse
from the Torah that this is permitted.' But he had not
finished his discourse when his soul departed, and he died.
Then Rabbi Ishmael exclaimed over him : 'Happy art thou,
Ben Dama, for thy body is pure and thy soul hath passed
away in purity and thou hast not transgressed the words
of thy companions, who have said (Eccles. x. 8) : Whoso
breaketh through a fence, a serpent shall bite him.' '

As to the details of the story, there is little variation
among the several versions given above. In all, the Chris-

266 THE MONIST.

tian proposes to heal the sick man in the name of Jesus ben
Pandira, but Ishmael would rather have his nephew die
than have him cured through the name of Jesus.

Leaving out of sight the fanaticism of this rabbi, we
can only say that our narrative confirms the New Testa-
ment which records the miracles of Jesus and his disciples.

2. Jacob the Teacher.

i. In Tosephta Hullin II, 24, we read: "The case of
Rabbi Eliezer, who was arrested for Minuth,1 and they
brought him to the tribunal for judgment. The governor
said to him, 'Doth an old man like thee occupy himself with
such things?' He said to him, 'Faithful is the judge con-
cerning me.' The governor supposed that he only said
this of him, but he was not thinking of any but his Father
who is in heaven. The governor said to him, 'Since I am
trusted concerning thyself, I will also be in this. I said,
Perhaps these societies err concerning these things. Dis-
missus, Behold thou art released.' And when he had been
released from the tribunal, he was troubled because he had
been arrested for Minuth. His disciples came in to console
him, but he would not be comforted. Rabbi Akiba came in
and said to him, 'Rabbi, shall I say to thee why thou art
perhaps grieving?' He said to him, 'Say on.' He said to
him, 'Perhaps one of the Minim (i. e., Jewish Christians)
has said to thee a word of Minuth and it has pleased thee.'
He said, 'By Heaven, thou hast reminded me! Once I
was walking along the street of Sepphoris, and I met Jacob
of Kephar Sichnin, and he said to me a word of Minuth
in the name of Jeshu ben Pantiri, and it pleased me. And
I was arrested for words of Minuth because I transgressed
the words of Torah (Prov. v. 8) : Keep thy way far from
her, and come not nigh the door of her house (vii. 26),
for she hath cast down many wounded.' '

1 1. e., a leaning towards Christianity.

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 267

2. In the Talmud Aboda Zara i6b, \ja, we read the
following: "Rabbi Eliezer was seized on the charge of be-
ing a Christian. The judge said to him, 'Thou, an aged
man, to busy thyself with such idle matters !' He replied,
'I admit the faithful reproof of the judge/ The latter,
thinking that he referred to him, whereas he really meant
God, said: 'Since you trust me you are discharged/ He
went home deeply distressed, and would receive no consola-
tion from his disciples. 'Rabbi!' cried Aquiba, 'Allow
me to say something which I have learned from thee/
'Say it/ was the reply. Hast thou not had a dispute with
a Christian, and by approving what he said, got thyself
into trouble ?' 'Aquiba !' said he, 'thou just remindest me
of a certain incident. Once upon a time I was walking in
the upper street of Sepphoris, when I met one [of the dis-
ciples of Jesus of Nazareth], whose name was Jacob, a
man of Kefr Sekanja, who said to me: "It is written in
your law : Thou shalt not bring the hire of a whore into the
house of the Lord thy God (Deut. xxiii. 18). May a sink
be made with it for the high priest ?" This question I could
not answer. Whereupon he said to me : 'Jesus of Nazareth
taught me thus on the subject. It is written, He gathered
it of the hire of an harlot (Micah i. 7) ; that is, it came
from an impure source, and it may be applied to an impure
use/' When I heard this explanation I was pleased with it,
and on this account I was accused of heresy, because I
trespassed against the word: Remove thy way far from
her (Prov. v. 8; "from her/' i. e., from heresy)/ '

3. The same story is also found in the Midrash on
Eccles. i. 8, where the reading is : "Thus has Jesus son of
Pandera taught," whereas the Talmud reads: "Jesus the
Nazarene."

The Eliezer here mentioned is Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyr-
canos,2 brother-in-law of Gamaliel II, the grandson of Ga-

1 See the interesting treatise of Toettermann, Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanos

268 THE MONIST.

maliel I, the teacher of Paul. That Eliezer was a famous
teacher can be learned from the fact that he is mentioned
324 times in the Mishna. Now this famous teacher ac-
knowledges that he was pleased with an explanation given
by Jesus of Nazareth. This teaching Eliezer received from
a certain Jacob, one of the disciples of Jesus, and whom
the Jewish historian Graetz identifies with the apostle
James.3

The genuineness of this incident is defended by the
late Jewish scholar Derenbourg in Essai sur I'histoire et
la geographic de la Palestine, pp. 357-360, although Eders-
heim in Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah I, 537, de-
clares it to be plainly apocryphal. But there is no ground
to reject the evidence of a man so well known as Rabbi
Eliezer, especially as it tells against himself. The story
seems to be well authenticated.

ANOTHER CHRISTIAN WHO PERFORMS MIRACLES.

In Jerusalem Shabbath 14^ we read: "The grandson
[of Rabbi Joshua ben Levi] had something stuck in his
throat. There came a man and whispered to him in the
name of Jeshu Pandera, and he recovered. When he (the
Christian) went out, Joshua said to him, 'What didst thou
whisper to him?' He said to him, 'A certain word.' He
said, 'It had been better for him that he had died rather
than this had happened.' And it thus befell him, 'as it were
an error that proceedeth from the ruler' (Eccles. x. 5)."

The meaning of the quotation from Eccles. x. 5 seems
to be that the fact of the child having been cured by a Chris-
tian was a deplorable evil which could not be undone, as
the command of a ruler given in error, and implicitly
obeyed, may result in mischief which cannot be afterwards

sive de vi qua doctrina Christiana primis seculis illustrissimos quosdam fudae-
orum attraxit, Leipsic, 1877.

* Gnosticismus und Judenthum, p. 25, note 22.

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 269

put right. The saying is characteristic of the feeling of
Jews towards Christians in the third century in Palestine.

A CHRISTIAN JUDGE APPLIED TO.

In the treatise Shabbath u6a, b, we read: "Imma
Shalom was the wife of Rabbi Eliezer, and sister of Rabban
Gamaliel. There was in her neighborhood a philosopher
of whom report said that he would not take a bribe. They
wished to have a laugh at him. So she brought him a
golden lamp, and they went before him. She said : 'I wish
them to apportion unto me of the property of the family.'
He said to them, 'Divide it.' He (Gamaliel) said: 'We
have it written : Where there is a son, a daughter does not
inherit.' He (the judge) answered, 'From the day that
ye were exiled from your land, the law of Moses has been
taken away, and the law of the Evangelion has been given,
and in it is written, "A son and a daughter shall inherit
alike." Next day, he (Gamaliel) brought him a Libyan
ass. He (the judge) said to them, 'I have looked further
to the end of the book, and in it is written : "I, the Gospel,
am not come to take away from the law of Moses but to
add to the law of Moses," and in it (the law of Moses) is
written, "Where there is a son, a daughter does not in-
herit." She said to him, 'Let your light shine as a lamp !'
Rabban Gamaliel said to her, 'The ass has come and trodden
out the lamp.' '

Whether the story is intended to represent more than
to show the venality of this judge, is difficult to say. It
is also questionable whether the philosopher possessed a
text of the Gospel at all. It is more likely that he quoted
what seems to be a "saying of Jesus" from a defective
memory, and in this perverted form the sentence passed
into the Talmud.

With this last story we have exhausted all the Talmud
passages collected by Dalman. But we cannot stop here,

270 THE MONIST.

i$fe we believe that still more can be derived from an
examination of the Talmud. We mean especially the nu-
merous sentences which in the Talmud are placed specifi-
cally in the mouth of Jewish authorities, but which might
with greater correctness be ascribed to Jesus. Of this we
shall speak further on. For the present we continue our
notices on the followers of Jesus.

CHRISTIANS STUDY THE SCRIPTURES.

In the Talmud Aboda Zarah 40 we read the following :
"Rabbi Abahu recommended Rabbi Saphra to the Chris-
tians as a good scholar. Thereupon the Christians re-
mitted his taxes for thirteen years. But it happened that
one day Rabbi Saphra was asked to give an explanation
of Amos iii. 3, 'You only have I known of all the families
of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your in-
iquities,' adding, 'How can you suppose God to vent his
wrath on one whom he addresses as his friend?' Rabbi
Saphra was unable to reply. The Christians then took him,
tied a rope round his head, and tormented him. When
Rabbi Abahu came and found him in this plight, he de-
manded of the Christians : 'Why do you torment this rabbi
so cruelly ?' They replied, 'Did you not tell us that he was
a very learned man? To the first question we asked of
him he was unable to make any answer.' 'I did, indeed/
answered Rabbi Abahu, 'say that he was a good scholar
in the Talmud, but not in the Scriptures.' 'But how is it
that you understand the Scriptures and he does not?' To
this Rabbi Abahu answered: 'We, who come in contact
with you Christians are obliged, for our self-preservation,
to study the Scriptures ; because you dispute so often with
us from the Scriptures, and because we know that you
study them; but the other Jews, who live among Gentiles,
have no need of that, as they do not dispute with them con-
cerning the Scriptures.' '

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 271

What a gloomy picture ! The Jews read the Scriptures,
not because they were concerned about the "one thing need-
ful," but only for the sake of controversy!

Another illustration of the acquaintance of the Chris-
tians with the Scriptures is contained in Talmud Yoma
4ob: "The disciples asked Rabbi Akiba, whether, in case
that the lot appointed the goat which stood on the left of
the priest for a sacrifice in the Temple, the position of the
goats should be changed ? He replied, 'Give the Christians
(minim) no occasion for assailing us'; or as Rashi, the
commentator, explains it: 'To the disciples of Jesus of
Nazareth who discourse concerning the Scriptures, that
they do not say you (Jews) act arbitrarily.' "4

ENACTMENTS AGAINST THE WRITINGS OF THE CHRISTIANS.

That the Gospels and other writings of the Minim (i. e.,
Christians) were in circulation at an early time, we see
from the many enactments of the Jewish rabbis against
them. At the time that the rules for keeping the Sabbath
were under consideration, it was asked in the schools
whether, if the Gospels and other books of the Christians
should happen to fall into the fire, it would be permissible
to rescue them from the fire, inasmuch as the name of God
was written in them, and they contained numerous quota-
tions from the Old Testament. On this matter we read
Tosephta Shabbath, XIII, 5: "The Gospels and the other
books of the Christians they do not save, but these are
burnt in their place, they and their sacred names. Rabbi
Jose the Galilean says, 'On a week-day one cuts out the
sacred names and hides them and burns the rest.' Rabbi
Tarphon said, 'May I lose my son! if they come into my
hand I would burn them and the sacred names too. If the
pursuer were pursuing after me, I would enter into a house

* So in the Venice edition, quoted by Goldfahn. in Graetz's Monatsschrift.
1873, p. 109.

272 THE MONIST.

of idolatry, but would enter not their houses. For the idol-
aters do not acknowledge Him (i. e., God) and speak
falsely concerning Him. And concerning them the Scrip-
ture says (Is. Ivii. 8) : And behind the doors and the door-
post thou hast set thy memorial/ Rabbi Ishmael said,
'Whereas in order to make peace between a man and his
wife, God says (cf. Num. v. 23) : Let my name which is
written in holiness be blotted out in water, how much more
should the books of the Minim, which put enmity and
jealousy and strife between Israel and their Father who
is in Heaven, be blotted out, and their sacred names too.
And concerning them the Scripture says (Ps. cxxxix. 21),
Do I not hate them, O Lord, which hate thee, and I loathe
them that rise up against thee. I hate them with a perfect
hatred, and they have become to me as enemies. And even
as men do not save them (the books) from burning, so do
they not save them from falling (from a building), nor
from water, nor from anything which destroys them.' '

Almost the same thing we read in Jerusalem Shabbath
i$c and Babylonian Shabbath I i6a. There we see that not
even the strict observance of the Sabbath was to stand in
the way of the instant destruction of the books of the
Minim ; nay, the terrible profanity of destroying the names
of God which were thought to give the material on which
they were inscribed a special and inviolable sanctity, was
set aside, and this not only on the Sabbath, when the cut-
ting out of them might be held to entail "work," but ac-
cording to Rabbi Tarphon, even on week days.

That, according to Rabbi Akiba, those have no portion
in the world to come who read in books outside the canon
(i. e., books of the Minim) we have already noticed above.
Nevertheless the Gospels circulated, at least the Gospel
of Matthew. For whatever may be the date assigned to
it by modern critics, certain it is that in some form it circu-
lated at a very early date. In the Talmud Sanhedrin gob

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 273

we read that Gamaliel II (who died about the year no
A. D.) was asked: "How do you know that the dead will
rise again?" He adduced passages in proof of the resur-
rection from the law (Deut. xxxi. 16), the Prophets (Is.
xxvi: 19) and the Hagiographa (Song of Songs ix).
These passages were rejected as insufficient. He finally
quoted the words "the land which the Lord sware unto
your fathers to give them" (Deut. xi. 21). Since the
fathers were dead, the passage must have promised a resur-
rection, when alone the land could be given to these fathers.
This shows the force of the interpretation given by Jesus in
Matt. xxii. 32 ("I am the God of Abraham, and the God
of Isaac, and the God of Jacob! God is not the God of the
dead, but of the living"), and the inference he deduced
therefrom.

ENACTMENTS AGAINST THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS.

On several occasions we have referred already to the
intercourse between the rabbis and Jewish Christians,5
which shows that Minuth (i. e., Christianity) had an at-
tractive power. In order to break its influence and to
check its growth, shortly before the destruction of Jeru-
salem the first formal anathema was hurled by the entire
Rabbinic assembly, which had met at Jamnia or Jabneh,

'As another illustration we quote the following from Midrash Kohelcth on
Ecclesiastes, i. 8: "Rabbi Hanina, nephew of Rabbi Joshua, went to Caper-
naum, and the Christians bewitched him and made him ride into the town on
an ass upon the Sabbath. When he returned to his uncle, Rabbi Joshua gave him
an unguent which healed him from the bewitchment. But Joshua said to him :
'Since you have heard the braying of the ass of that wicked one, you can no
longer remain on the soil of Israel.' Hanina went down to Babylon and there
died in peace. — Farrar, who quotes this story in Expositor, Vol. VI, 1877, p.
423, says : "The expression 'the ass of the wicked one" is only too plainly and
sadly an illusion to the ass ridden by our Lord in his triumphal entry into
Jerusalem; and the suppression of the name Jesus is in accordance with the
practice of only mentioning Him in an oblique and cryptographic manner. —
Lowe {Fragment of the Talmud Babli, Cambridge, 1879, p. 71) translated
for "ass" wine — in the Talmud both words are expressed the same — and
thinks that the Christians intoxicated him with the wine of the agapai, which
they seem to have celebrated on Friday night. More probable, perhaps, is the
meaning of Delitzsch (Ein Tag in Capernaum, Leipsic, 1873, p. 25) who says
that the "ass of that wicked" refers to the foolish preaching of the crucified

274 THE MONIST.

under the auspices of Gamaliel II. Thus the great Rabbi
Moses Maimonides6 (died 1204 A. D.) says: "In the days
of Rabbi Gamaliel the minim increased in Israel, and af-
flicted Israel, and seduced men to turn away from God.
Then when he saw that it was indispensably necessary, he
instituted that imprecation in which God is besought that
the minim should be destroyed, and added it to the eighteen
prayers, so that the whole number now found in the Prayer
Book is nineteen." Thus far Maimonides in Hilcoth Te-
philla, chap. II.

From the Talmud we learn the history of the prayer
which is as follows : "Simon Pakuli arranged the eighteen
benedictions before Rabbi Gamaliel in the present order at
Jabneh. Said Rabban Gamaliel to the sages : 'Is there none
who knows how to prepare a benediction against the
minim?' Then arose Samuel the Little and prepared it
(Talmud Berachoth 28^)." This prayer, which now forms
the twelfth of the so-called Eighteen Benedictions or She-
moneh Esreh7 reads now: "O let the slanderers have no
hope; all the wicked be annihilated speedily and all the
tyrants be cut off quickly; humble thou them quickly in
our days. Blessed art thou, O Lord ! who destroyest ene-
mies and humblest tyrants."

That this was not the original form is clear from the
different recensions of this prayer which exist. Thus
Reichardt copied from an old manuscript the following
form: "Be thou not a hope to the meshumadim (i. e., apos-
tates), but may the minim, the double-tongued, the infidels,
the traitors, perish together in a moment ; may the enemies
of thy people Israel be speedily annihilated; mayest thou
speedily destroy the kingdom of pride and rend it in pieces ;
mayest thou humble them speedily in these our days.

"The Jews call him the "second Moses," whereas Moses Mendelssohn is
styled the "third Moses."

T See my article "Shemoneh Esreh" in McClintock and Strong's Cyclop.

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 2/5

Blessed art thou, O God, for thou shalt break into frag-
ments the wicked, and humble the proud."8 Another form
is given by Dalman, "Let there be no hope for the apostates,
and the kingdom of pride mayest thou destroy quickly in
our days. And let the Nazarenes and the Christians sud-
denly perish. Let them be extinguished from the book of
life and not be written with the righteous. Blessed art
thou, O Jahve, who humblest the wicked."9

Whatever the form of the so-called Birkath ha-minim —
as the prayer is called — may have been, its existence is
attested by Epiphanius, who says that the Jews curse and
excommunicate the Nazarenes three times during the day.10
The same we also learn from Jerome11 and Justin Martyr.18
In spite of all stringent measures the numbers of believers
increased. As many cherished the Christian faith in secret,
it was enacted that in case a reader erred in one of the bene-
dictions, he was not to be removed from the reading-desk,
but in case he erred in the benediction against the minim
he was to be removed, because he was then suspected of
being a min himself.13

ENACTMENTS AFFECTING CUSTOMS AND USAGES.

The influence of Christianity being felt more and more,
the rabbis changed some of their ancient customs. Thus

* The Relation of the Jewish Christians to the Jews in the First and Second
Centuries. London, 1884, p. 46.

' Die Worte Jesu, p. 209 et seq. See also Jewish Quarterly Review, X
(1808), 654 et seq.; Bousset, Die Religion des Judentums im neutestament-
lichen Zeitalter, 1903, p. 155 et seq.; Fiebig, Der Mischnatractat Berachoth
(1006), p. 28.

"Adversus Haeres., XXIX, 9 (ed. Petav., p. 124).

11 Ad Jesajam V, 18-19; XLIX, 7; LIT, 4 et seq. (ed. Vallarsi IV, 81, 565,
604).

"Diologus cum Try phone, chap. 16.

u Strange to say the Talmud Berachoth 290 records that one year after the
composition of this prayer against the minim, its very author while before the
reading-desk could not remember it and spent from three to four hours in
trying to recall it to his mind without avail. He was, however, not removed.
Had the author changed his mind with regard to those for whom his prayer
was intended? or did he himself belong to the church? or was he already a
member of the church when he composed this prayer extempore and composed
it only in order to avert suspicion of being a min himself?

276 THE MONIST.

the ''standing men"14 used to fast on several days of the
week, but not on Sunday. And why did they not fast on
the day after the Sabbath? Rabbi Jochanan says, "Be-
cause of the Nazarenes" (Talmud Taanith 27^). The
idea is that those who fasted had not to work, and a ces-
sation from work on Sunday might have the appearance
of observing the Christian Sunday (i. e., when the Temple
was still in existence).

We also read that it was proposed that the Ten Com-
mandments, which were recited every morning in the
Temple, should be recited in the synagogues throughout
the land; but this was not carried into effect because of
the "carping of the Minim" (Talmud Berachoth I2a), or
as the Jerusalem recension (Berachoth 30) explains, "be-
cause of the misrepresentation of the Minim that they
might not say, 'These alone were given to Moses on Sinai.' '

But this was probably not the reason. The real ground
seems to me to have been to avoid conforming a part of
the Jewish service to the Christian, and thus making the
joining of the church much easier. We know not whether
the first Christians recited the Ten Commandments. But
may not Pliny in his letter to Trajan (Epist. 97) have
reference to them when he writes that the Christians bound
themselves by an oath, not for any guilty purpose, but "not
to commit thefts, or robberies, or adulteries, not to break
their word, not to repudiate deposits when called upon?"
(Sed ne furta, ne latrocinia, ne adult eria committerent , ne
fidem fallerent, ne deposition appellati abnegarent.)

Another curious example of the necessity which the
Jews felt of protesting against the Christians is the follow-
ing: The inhabitants of Jericho were in the habit of re-
peating each to himself, in a low voice, the words "Blessed

""Standing men" has reference to those Israelites who were commis-
sioned to act as delegates, representing the nation at the Temple in Jerusalem,
and because they had to stand near the priest during the offering of the daily
sacrifice, they were called "the standing men."

THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 277

be the name of the glory of His kingdom for ever and
ever," after the Shema15 (i. e., "Hear, O Israel, the Lord
our God is one God," Deut. vi. 4) had been recited aloud.
But, says Rabbi Abahu,16 "it was enacted that the words
should be repeated in a loud voice, on account of the carp-
ing of the Minim. But at Nehardea (in Babylon), where
there are no Minim, they repeat them to this day in a sub-
dued voice" (Talmud Pesachim 560).

Great care was taken that the prayers contained not
the least sign of a Christian phraseology. Thus we read:
"A person who, in his prayer says 'the good shall bless
thee/ lo, this is a Christian manner (the way of Minuth) ;
but if one says, 'thy mercies extend even to the birds' nests/
'let thy name be remembered for good/ 'we praise, we
praise/ he shall be silenced (Mishna Megilla IV, 9; Bera-
choth V, 3)."

The Mishna is the oldest stratum of the Talmud, and
our passage is one of the few in the Mishna which refer
directly to minuth or Christianity. The meaning is ob-
scure, but it is possible that the reference is here to some
ancient Christian liturgical forms. May not the words
"thy mercies extend even to the birds' nests" have had
reference to Matt. x. 29? Whatever the reason, the reader
was silenced.

Even the dress of the person who acted as reader of
the synagogue was made a test. Thus we read in Mishna
Megilla IV, 8 : "If a person should say, I will not go before
the Ark in colored garments, he shall not do so in white
ones. If he refuses to minister with sandals on his feet,
he shall not do so even barefoot." To this Mishnaic in-
junction the Gemara remarks, that the reason for this is
because such a one might belong to the Christians. Rashi,

"The watchword of the divine Unity.

" As he was a great opponent of the Minim, there must have been some
reason for the enactment.

278 THE MONIST.

in his commentary on that passage remarks that the Chris-
tians used to pay attention to such things.

Because the Christians used to pray towards the east,
doubts were expressed as to the feasibility of having the
face turned eastward during prayer, and in order to pro-
test most emphatically against the increasing heresy (i. e.,
Christianity), it was recommended to turn the face west-
ward during prayer, and the Talmud Baba Bathra 250
states of Rav Shesheth, who was totally blind, that he
ordered his servant to place him in any other but the east-
ward direction when he wished to pray, because the Minim
turned in that direction. The commentator on this passage,
Rashi, refers it to "the disciples of Jesus."

From all this it is evident that the growth of the Chris-
tian Church must have been very rapid, otherwise the
synagogue would not have required these measures, in-
tended to check the advancement of the Gospel.

BERNHARD PICK.
NEWARK, NEW JERSEY.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

DEATH AND RESURRECTION.

"What matters it if searching mind sublime
Would doom the lights of Heaven to die ;
If hosts of stars were swept from sky
As golden harvests by the scythe of time?
Thy righteous thoughts and what thy love conceived,
Thy beauteous dreams are not by time impaired;
They grow a harvest from that scythe-man spared
And treasures in celestial stores received.
Go forth, Humanity, on journey blessed,
Rejoice, eternal life dwells in thy breast."

V. Rydberg.
(From the Swedish by J. E. Fries.)

Death and Resurrection is the title of a remarkable book just
published by The Open Court Publishing Company. Its author,
Gustaf Bjorklund, who died in the year 1903, was a philosopher
with a marked influence on modern thought in his native country,
Sweden. As an ardent worker in the international peace movement
he is known also far outside that country. He never occupied a
professor's chair nor any official position whatsoever, but devoted
his entire time to quiet studies and the compilation of a series of
thoughtful volumes. Young, liberal Sweden has drawn heavily
upon the funds of undogmatic wisdom that this unassuming thinker
accumulated in his several books. It is our confident hope that this,
his last work, will prove equally valuable to an interested public on
this continent.

The most noteworthy characteristic of Bjorklund's method of
treating his subject is the great thoroughness with which he in-
vestigates the arguments of his opponents. After reading the pres-
ent volume we cannot for a moment doubt the statement in the
author's preface that his studying of the physical and chemical foun-
dations of modern materialism alone required his exclusive attention

280 THE MONIST.

for several years. It may be well to remember this at a first read-
ing of the book — if read once, it will surely be read over again —
because the critical student will meet many statements which he by
no means is ready to accept without previous proofs. We must not
suspect the clear, logical intellect of Bjorklund to have overlooked
this, and if we only keep our point in mind we shall invariably find
sooner or later the desired demonstration. The reason for this
strange arrangement is to be found in the dramatic construction
of the book. Bjorklund gradually works up to a climax and is not
inclined to give away his thunder too early.

In giving a resume of Death and Resurrection it may be ad-
visible, therefore, to turn the barrel upside down, so to speak, first
pointing out the aim of Bjorklund and subsequently endeavoring to
follow the line of argument by which the author proves his thesis.

Bjorklund is an idealist, yea, a spiritualist. And yet he gives
such convincing proofs of the impossibility of any thing that may be
classified under the heading "spirit-communications," that Sir Oliver
Lodge and Prof. J. H. Hyslop must turn from him in scorn. On
the other hand he differentiates between the material and spiritual
world so distinctly that any one who. like Dr. Paul Carus, makes
the, in the writer's opinion, futile attempt to reconcile the two, finds
in him an equally decided opponent. The publishing of the present
volume, therefore, reflects great credit on the part of Dr. Carus and
is a new monument among many to his openmindedness and un-
flinching desire to bring every possible argument against his philos-
ophy under discussion.

A large part of Death and Resurrrection is naturally devoted
to the demonstration of the contrast between life or life-force on
one hand, and physical energy in all its forms on the other. Here
Bjorklund and Dr. Carus differ radically. True, even the latter is
obliged to concede that life-force is a very unique form of energy.
In his article "Life and the Soul" (Monist, April, 1908) he says,
that the process of life is a phenomenon sui generis, more compli-
cated than any purely physical or chemical process ; "Vitality or the
function of life is a kind of energy of its own. In this sense we
may retain the old idea of vitalism in a modernized form and classify
life by itself"; and again: "We would say then that the function of
life is a manifestation of energy which forms a category of its own.
It is as different from physical processes as chemical combinations
are different from purely mechanical movements — or even more so."
But to take the full step and acknowledge that life has no roots what-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 28l

ever in the material world he will not, he cannot, because a spiritual
world does not fit into his philosophical system. It is necessary to
the theory of Dr. Carus and to that of pure materialists alike, that
the formation of a Homunculus be possible in theory if not in
practice.

With no other resources than the material world to fall back
upon, how then did life grow out of matter and physical energy?
We face again the time-worn question of generatio aequivoca. If
spontaneous generation could be proved without the shadow of a
doubt to be impossible, then, surely, we must look beyond the
boundaries of the visible world for the origin and substance of life.
This is what Bjorklund does in the volume under consideration.

But first let us see what the materialist, and Dr. Carus with
him, has to say on this subject. In this respect the two reason
exactly alike. In the article referred to above, Dr. Cams says:
"Living bodies consist of the very same materials of which the rest
of the world is composed. Chemistry has resolved matter into
some seventy elements, and the elements of organic chemistry are
absolutely the same as those of inorganic chemistry. Some of the
most unstable and lightest elements play the most important part
in the function of life, for we may say that oxygen, hydrogen, nitro-
gen and carbon are the most essential factors in building up living
organisms.". . . ."They [the naturalists] have succeeded in producing
organic matter, the first substance thus secured being urea, but they
have not succeeded in building up an organism, and there is scarcely
any hope for success in producing the smallest living bacterium.
This repeated failure has caused mystics to claim emphatically that
life is a mystery that never can be solved, but in fact it only proves
that the original life-forms are too small to come as yet under our
notice. If we only consider that the smallest fungi are about as
complicated in comparison to atoms, as the tree is in comparison
to a cell, we will understand that we need better microscopes than
are now at our disposal before we can discover the most primitive
form of life.

"Theoretically considered it should not be impossible to repro-
duce life. The tendency of certain elements to organize into life-
plasm is in itself no more mysterious than chemical affinities or the
formation of crystals.

"There is no consistency in the methods of those who see
nothing extraordinary in purely physical processes but are overawed
when contemplating the basic fact of all biological phenomena, the

282 THE MONIST.

formation of living structures. There is no less reason why the
simplest life-forms under favorable conditions should not organize
certain elements into the structure of life-organisms than for vapor
to assume the form of snow crystals in the air at a given tempera-
ture, and neither process is theoretically incomprehensible. Both
are equally mysterious and equally possible."

Consequently, because every organism consists of nothing but
the elements to be found in nature and because each and every one
of its functions is performed according to natural laws — therefore
nature has of its own accord built the organism. Why have we not
discovered nature in the act of doing this? Because our microscopes
are not powerful enough. When did, or do, such wonderful com-
binations of the elements take place? Under favorable conditions.
What would constitute favorable conditions? No answer. The
spontaneous formation of the snow crystals and of the as yet un-
discovered most primitive forms of life is equally mysterious and
equally possible. The first part of this last statement is true, the
second false, as we presently shall see.

This way of reasoning is so characteristic of the materialist
that Bjorklund has found the same lines of thought almost verbally
given in Biichner's book, Kraft und Materia, and he has conse-
quently answered Dr. Carus long ago.

We might just as well, says Bjorklund, make the following
statement: No atom in a steam engine differs from similar atoms
in surrounding nature ; every movement of the engine is performed
in the strictest accordance with natural laws ; therefore nature has
spontaneously built the steam engine without the interference and
guidance of a supernatural being, here man. It is of no use to
argue, that nature first developed man and through him the engine,
because even Dr. Carus admits that the most primitive form of life
also is fundamentally constructed as a steam engine, that is, con-
sists of organized matter. "The terms 'living' and 'organized' are
synonymous," says Dr. Carus. The only difference is that matter is
so much more crudely organized in the engine than in the living
units that constitute the organic cell. Little would it profit us in our
endeavor to find the truth or non-truth of generatio spontanea even
if our microscopes were powerful enough to allow us to observe
the individual atoms or even the corpuscles of which they are per-
haps composed.

To quote Bjorklund. "Even if we were observing with our
own eyes the creation of the first organism we would not be able to

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 283

say whether it were the result of natural or supernatural forces.
The moment our study commenced the mystic act of creation would
already have taken place, an act which lies beyond the boundaries
of research, and which we never shall be able to penetrate however
minute or comprehensive our observations."

And even if we could scientifically prove that every single be-
ing on earth at present has had parents ; even if we could trace life
back through endless generations to Lord Kelvin's "moss-clad frag-
ment" from another world, or to Professor Arrhenius's spore,
brought to our little globe from some distant star in the universe
by the radiation pressure of light, we would still be just as much in
the dark as to the origin of life. We would have to extend our
researches to every planet inhabited by life to ascertain whether the
"favorable conditions" existed there, and if not at present, then
perhaps some millions of years ago, or would, (why not?) after
some millions of years to come, because one single exception to
Harvey's law, omne vivum e vivo, will suffice to bring the palm
of victor}' into the hands of the materialists.

This whole method is consequently unsatisfactory. To quote
Bjorklund again: "An entirely different method is here necessary;
our endeavor must be to find the innermost cause to the whole series
of generations evolving throughout the ages. We must in other
words derive Harvey's law from the inner nature of matter itself,
show that this matter has such qualities that it cannot, never could
and never will be able to produce a single living being. Only then
shall we have demonstrated that Harvey's formula is a universal,
natural law and then it will be not only our right but our duty to
draw its logical consequences."

Now then, why is not life force a form of physical energy, in-
cluding its every known form, gravity, light, heat, chemical affinity,
magnetism, electricity or radio-activity? Why cannot living sub-
stance or organized matter spontaneously be formed by inert sub-
stance, such as we find immediately on earth and by the spectro-
scope in other parts of the universe? Because physical energy
tends to equilibrium, life force to unstable compositions; because
inert substance is a natural product, organized matter a product of
art.

Let us consider a moment the truth, meaning and tremendous
weight of this argument.

Take for instance the evolution of our own globe. We have
been accustomed to think of the formation of the celestial bodies as

284 THE MONIST.

a continuous cooling off from the gaseous state to a stage when life
may appear, and further to a condition like that of our moon when
they become uninhabitable again. According to this view the whole
of the universe is slowly approaching a certain end, Clausius's
"thermo-death" when all heat is evenly distributed in the form of
motion of the smallest particles of matter. Professor Arrhenius
remarks, however, that as we know of no beginning of time, such
"thermo-death" would long ago have pervaded the universe. He
further demonstrates in his wonderful book Worlds in Making how
the heat swings as an immense pendulum from the suns to the
nebulas and from the nebulas to the suns again. Science at present,
therefore, does not contradict philosophy in its demand that time
must be unlimited in both directions. To the present status of
science and philosophy as regards infinity of space I hope to return
some other time in the pages of The Monist. Never and nowhere,
however, has science found the laws of nature or physical energy
to operate differently under equal conditions. The same causes
are inevitably followed by the same results. If we therefore prove
that physical energy never could or can create life spontaneously
on our earth, the homogeneity and continuity of the universe as
established by recent science, forces us to conclude that more "favor-
able conditions" have never and nowhere else existed or shall exist.
But the matter of our earth was once as hot as that of the sun,
and was then rich in chemical energy. When sufficiently cooled off
to allow chemical affinity to act, compounds as poor in energy as the
conditions for the moment permitted, were always formed. The
substances of our earth are the ashes resulting from violent chemical
reactions. Hydrogen and oxygen "burned" into water. And so
nature always tends to satisfy even the feeblest chemical affinity
and never rests until it reaches perfect equilibrium. Even the decay
that takes place, thanks to the water-circulation due to the sun's
radiation, is nothing but a more thorough burning of the substances
of our earth ; that is, the remnants of the elements that did not find
their mates in the primeval world-fire endeavor to satisfy their affin-
ity, wherever a compound poorer in energy may possibly be formed.
Thus physical energy is always and without exception falling from
a higher to a lower level just as infallibly as the running stream.
Indeed, the descending water is only another expression of the
same natural law. Finally our earth reaches stagnation, as the moon
has done before, and it will thus remain a petrified mummy, until a
cosmic catastrophe scatters its substance over immense spaces form-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 285

ing parts of some vast nebula that again will slowly form "new
heavens and a new earth" as described so admirably by Professor
Arrhenius.

During a certain period of this history of our earth, lo and be-
hold, there appear on its surface certain forces which most de-
cidedly oppose the processes of physical energy. Out of the ashes
of the original world-fire burnable matter is again formed. The
most neutral compounds are decomposed again and new compo-
sitions formed which for a time fight successfully against the leveling
tendencies of physical energy but finally succumb to the general,
powerful law, decay or oxidize again just as the steam engine, when
left to the mercy of nature, is dissolved speedily. It is as if the
orderly evolution toward equilibrium suffered a temporary check.
We say that "life" takes hold of inorganic matter and forces it to
enter into unstable, organic compounds. "Life" utilizes nothing
but natural laws in accomplishing its wonders. We are able to
calculate the tremendous forces necessary to extract the organic
carbon from its compounds and we find at once that such energy
sources as are available, i. e., the earth's internal heat and the radia-
tion from the sun are utterly unable without "artful" guidance
to accomplish the result.

To quote Bjorklund: "The spontaneous activity of nature's
forces, then, go in a direction just opposite to the one necessary for
the production of organic substances. And nothing else was to be
expected. The products of combustion resemble fallen weights,
slack bow-strings, water below the fall, etc. Whereas combustible
organic matter might be compared to lifted weights, set bow-strings,
water above the fall, etc. If matter has once fallen from a higher
to a lower level of energy it can never spontaneously return, espe-
cially as it has just lost the necessary store of energy. As impossible
as it is for the swift current to turn its course, or for the fallen
weight to lift itself, or for the discharged bowstring to set itself
again, so impossible is it for the products of combustion spon-
taneously to turn into combustible substances.

"From this we now draw the extremely important conclusion
that all organic matter is a product of art, that is, a product which
the forces of nature cannot spontaneously produce."

The quality in matter which causes its inability to "turn the
current" is called inertia. Inert matter cannot spontaneously deviate
from its course ; a foreign interference is necessary.

In building a living being, life does exactly, only in a more

286 THE MONIST.

perfect way, what man does in building a steam engine. Man re-
duces the carbon in the ore and so does the cell in the chlorophyl.
The chlorophyl granules therefore are strikingly comparable to our
blast furnaces. But herewith life's quality of being a product of
art is not yet fully emphasized.

Let us quote Bjorklund again : "No effect, whatever its nature,
can exist without cause ; and further every effect must have sufficient
cause. If therefore we have established that natural forces can no
more produce organisms than steam engines, we have also proved
that these things would never have come into existence if the in-
organic forces had been left to themselves. Neither organisms nor
steam engines would exist because they have no cause in the material
world. The products of art are not only due to other causes but
moreover the relationship between cause and effect is different with
them from what it is with the products of nature. Every product
of nature has its cause in a previous condition of matter. The cause
goes before and the effect comes after in time. The connection be-
tween cause and effect is so intimate and complete with regard to
the natural products that we may trace the series of occurrences
backward and forward in time without other limitations than those
imposed by a deficient knowledge of the qualities of matter. Such
a connection between cause and effect has been termed mechanical
causality which reigns without exception in the material world.

"Of entirely different kind and nature is the series of causes
pertaining to the production of objects of art. In their capacity
of purpose, they are themselves the physical cause of all the work
that precedes their birth. When the product of art is finally ready
the effect has then gone before the cause. Such a connection is
called a ideological causality in contradistinction to the mechanical
one, where the cause always precedes the effect.

"But although the product of art is the nearest cause of its own
production it is not the primary one ; it is itself the result, not of
a cause to be found in the material world, but of a foreign inter-
ference in the mechanical causality, and points therefore to a super-
natural ground which by a closer investigation will be found identical
with a living will. The will feels the want of other things than those
natural forces can spontaneously produce. Natural products act
as incentives on the will, spur it to break through mechanical causal-
ity so that physical laws by a judicious guidance may be forced to
produce artificial products that better satisfy the desires of the will.
If natural laws could comprehend and judge these things they would

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 287

consider them all as miracles, whereas, from the point of view of the
will, they are so much the more natural as they are exact expressions
of the needs and desires of the will.

"But not only the order of cause and effect, even the tie between
the two, is entirely different in teleological causality from that in
mechanical. While the natural product is an effect that cannot fail
to appear, the product of art on the contrary is an effect that primar-
ily never could be expected, because it has no cause in the material
world ; but further, if it is forthcoming, the tie between cause and
effect is so loose, that such a product may be left and will remain
in any stage of its production. It may be just commenced, half
ready, or nearly completed ; be better or worse, be a failure and so
on, whereas the natural product springs forth of physical necessity
from its cause, and never can be different from what it is.

"Wills and physical forces then stand against each other as
two fundamentally and radically different causes. A will may neglect
to do what it ought to, may be idle, industrious, undecided ; a phys-
ical force cannot leave undone what it has to do, can never be called
idle, industrious or undecided.

That man is able to produce objects of art we have sufficient
evidence in material invention from the simple stone-ax up to the
most complicated machines. But if man can create products of art
he must himself be a supernatural cause as natural products produce
nothing but their own kind. And not only he, but also the beings
that build up his organism must be supernatural causes as we have
seen that all organic matter ipso facto is a product of art."

The sum total of human experience is composed of ponderable
matter, measurable energy, life-force and its manifestations in organ-
ization, feelings, sentiments and thoughts. The two first items,
surely, belong to the material world. They are the only ones that
so far have constituted the field of research of natural science, and
if Bjorklund's theory is right, they will forever so remain. The
latest investigations into the nature of corpuscles go far towards
making us believe that ponderable matter is also nothing but a form
of physical energy, so that science will ultimately have to treat
measurable energy by mathematics only. Will life-force with its
manifestations of organization, love, hate, thoughts, etc., ever be
laid under the domain of this science, will the results of our indi-
vidual characters even in abstracto be subject to mathematical in-
vestigation? However incredible such an outcome may seem, we

288 THE MONIST.

were not justified in saying, "Impossible," until Bjorklund proved
the intrinsic incompatibility between physical energy and life-force.

Life consequently has none of its roots in the material world.
The form in which this world exists is, negatively expressed, limi-
tation by time and space. Thoughts and feelings just as much as
their cause, life, fall outside of these limitations or are immortal.
"Immortality, then, belongs to every living cell as materiality to
matter." The form too, as defined by Dr. Carus, is immortal for
the same reason, but we have seen that nature, left to itself, would
never have created one single organized form because the tendency
of nature is to tear down every "form." Life appears in forms, but
life is primary, form secondary. And how fortunate this is. Form,
belonging to an immortal spirit, possesses unlimited immortality,
but form, torn from life, is endowed with a queer kind of immortality
which ends when humanity ends on earth. And as the final destruc-
tion of the world is a scientific fact, all the inhabitants of Tellus
cease in that moment to exist. For a man, be he ever so real, does
not exist alone in empty space, because there is nothing to react
upon him ; and Dr. Carus's "form" lives only as long as it is in
organic touch with living generations. But I do not see where the
reactions upon his form will come from when this globe is unin-
habitable, unless the very matter of our earth is so transformed
because of its existence that it will enter into different combinations
when forming another planet than it would if it never had served
to clothe a human being. Widely different of course is the immor-
tality of a spirit unlimited by time and space.

Dr. Carus objects to a dualistic world-system but if he upbuilds
his cosmos of physical energy and life force, calling the latter an
energy sui generis, I for one cannot see why Bjorklund merits the
title dualist more than Dr. Carus. In order to bring unity into the
whole Dr. Carus must show the relationship between these two kinds
of energy or at least, in order to bring the question under discussion
again, overthrow Bjorklund's proof of their non-relationship. And
if the manifestations of both are "equally mysterious' which indeed
they are as we have as yet not discovered the fountain of either,
why should Bjorklund's explanation be less acceptable to a rational
mind than Dr. Carus's preservation of a form that physical energy
never has shown a tendency to create or maintain?

We may suppose that Dr. Carus now admits the impossibility
of generatio spontanea and accepts a dualism of physical force and
life-force but declares both to be phenomena belonging to time and

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 289

space. But then his preservation of form suffers the limitation re-
ferred to above, and what is more important, his system gives no
explanation of the teleological order in the realm of life. A spiritual
world that utilizes physical energy to certain ends and as an evolu-
tionary part or side of its activity, offers on the other hand a satis-
factory solution of these problems.

After having established that life is not "of this world" Bjork-
lund proceeds to analyze the organization of life, and we come now
to that part of the book that has suggested its title.

Bjorklund has thoroughly studied modern cytology, and in it
he finds strong reasons to regard every living cell as being ensouled
with individual life in no lesser sense than man himself. Man is
an individual composed of lower individuals, the cells, but he is him-
self a cell in an individual of higher order, humanity. We are able to
comprehend in part only those beings next below and next above
man : below the cells and above humanity there must be other living
units until we reach the unifying soul of all life, the living God.
Thus we, and the cells with us, are all living members in God's
perfect organism. We are indispensable to the existence of God
and He to ours. This does not mean that either man or God is
lacking in personal individuality. The self-dependence and yet inter-
dependence between any being and its lower constituents, is very fully
discussed by Bjorklund.

We shall now endeavor briefly to follow this discussion.

Experiments carried out with animals show that the cell organi-
zation will remain alive and perform all vegetative processes even
if deprived of the direct guidance of the animal soul. And similar
observations have been made on men under certain conditions. Thus
it is certain beyond doubt that the cells not only execute but, through
the central nerve-system, regulate and control a multitude of func-
tions in which the soul does not take part. But just as certain it
is that there are many functions which the cells could not perform
without the cooperation of the soul. Vision, hearing, smelling,
tasting and feeling would be entirely meaningless to the cells without
the aid of the soul. The same is in a high degree the case with the
motions of the body which also require such a higher guidance.
Deprived of its brain, "the dove could fly, the dog walk, and so forth,
but the motions were relatively purposeless. The predetermined
plan was lacking. The cells could assimilate the food, when brought
into the body, but they could not search it in nature. Such action

THE MONIST.

requires a power of combination that exceeds their measure of in-
telligence."

"We see consequently that the cells may do without the soul
in such functions as are not related to the exterior world, compre-
hensible to our senses. Here they need the guidance of a higher,
more developed intelligence. In the outside world with its more
complicated relations the soul is to the cells very nearly what we
mean by the word Providence. The soul performs in the interest of
the cells, such a higher, regulating and guiding function."

Bjorklund complains that the cells are continually studied from
man's point of view but what man may be from the cell's point of
view is never thought of: "We do not hereby deny to the old con-
ception all justification. The body is also an organ for the soul.
The latter, as experience shows, uses the body for its own specific
purposes. But this takes place only to a somewhat limited extent.
The incomparably larger part of the soul's work, cares and endeav-
ors are devoted to find means for satisfying the bodily wants. But
so far as the soul provides for the necessities of the -body it acts
as organ for the cells. When man believes that he is running his own
errands he is in reality carrying out the missions of those beings that
compose his body. These latter demand for their purposes, if not
all, yet at least the largest part of the work the soul performs in
this world."

Bjorklund further draws an admirable comparison between the
organization of the cells and the organization of mankind, and shows
how the cells in their sphere have reached a much higher degree of
perfection than man has as yet in his realm of existence.

But let us return to the relationship between man and cells,
or which is the same, between soul and body. It is very difficult
now to avoid quoting Bjorklund in extenso, and we shall only be
able to suggest the author's line of thought and refer the interested
student to the book itself for obtaining the demonstration.

The cells and the soul live in entirely separate realms and their
constitution is so different that they need not even be aware of each
other's existence. And yet a continuous cooperation and intercom-
munication takes place. The connecting link is the organism per se.
"From the point of view of the cells, the organism, with its different
members and organs, was nothing but the collective expressions of
individual wants. Now man comprehends as his needs only the
wants of the organs ; in other words, the collective wants of the cells
are the individual wants of the soul. Experience teaches us that the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 2QI

soul has no direct comprehension of the cells but only of their
organic unions. To prove this it may be sufficient to point out that
before the discovery of the microscope man knew absolutely nothing
of the existence of these beings, much less that they were the all-
governing forces in his own body. But also in other ways we may
ascertain that the comprehending power of the soul does not reach
beyond the organs. This is apparent from the different significance
the physiological processes have for the soul and for the cells. If
we consider the most important of them all, our nutrition, and ask
ourselves for whom the nourishment is really intended, we find
that it is for the cells and for the cells alone.

"The food benefits the soul only if it is utilized by the cells.
But the nourishment that the soul craves, does not satisfy the cells.
Hunger and satisfaction are not even simultaneous in both, at least
not as regards the same food. As a rule the soul comprehends
hunger when the cells are satisfied and vice versa. The soul's hunger
ceases the moment suitable food in sufficient quantity is introduced
in the stomach. But this does not help the cells. Because, if the
food remained in the stomach, to the satisfaction of the soul, the
cells would soon die of starvation. The nourishment in the stomach
is of the same importance to the cells as the provisions stored in
the warehouse of the community are to the human individuals. These
also would die from hunger if they let the provisions remain in the
stores. The people must undertake to distribute, prepare and con-
sume the food. Similarly the cells would starve to death unless they
prepared the food in their common storage to suit their wants. The
nourishment must be transformed into blood through the whole
complicated process we call digestion. When this is done the cells
are able to satisfy their craving, and simultaneously a new hunger
feeling arises in the soul. Although it is the same food that satis-
fies both parties it is the same food in different form, at a different
time and in a different mode. We are concerned with dissimilar
beings possessed of wants, at once different and yet most intimately
associated.

"The connection is not difficult to understand. When the soul
comprehends the need of the stomach it is the collective wants of the
cells that comes to expression as the individual want of the soul.
The different needs receive in different form an identical substance,
and this fact is obviously the connecting link between the soul and
the cells. We might carry out the same reasoning in regard to the
respiration and all the other physiological processes of the body."

THE MONIST.

"The soul therefore is potentially present in the cells in the
form of their higher wants and is consequently developed along
with the upbuilding of the body. Only when this is ready is the
soul's entity developed. The soul must then comprehend the organ-
ism as its particular body when conscious of its own ego, but the
cells do not enter into the soul's entity as individuals and are not
present as such in man's consciousness.

"For this organic cooperation the soul and the cells need no
language, no sign to communicate with each other. It is not even
necessary that they are aware of each other's existence. It is suffi-
cient that each party comprehends its own wants and acts for their
satisfaction according to its own nature. If they do this, their co-
operation through the body receives a simple and at the same time
complete explanation.

"But however natural this interaction is, it is nevertheless a
wonder above all wonders. The world that exists to the soul does
not exist to the cells and vice versa. They have an entirely different
conception of the realm in which they live. They have different
apprehensions, feelings and wants and perform accordingly different
functions. But in spite of this they are, as we have seen, within
certain limits so intimately connected that these different compre-
hensions and labors are interlinked with each other, regulating one
another as accurately as the wheels in a clock.

"From the relationship existing between the soul and the cells
it appears that the former cannot live a life independent of the latter.
The soul receives its entire individuality, all its qualities, forces and
faculties through the organism built by the cells, which therefore
must exist before the soul can exist as the real unity in the organism.
This does not mean that the soul is an empty form void of inde-
pendent substance. Even before the cells have combined into an
organic unit the soul is potentially present in them in the form of
the wants that force them to upbuild the organism, and this organism
is that of the soul, not that of the cells of which each possesses its
individual organism.

"But if the soul is potentially present in the cells it is only
through them that it can arise to a higher life. We have already
shown in another connection that a direct transposition would be
useless and meaningless. Endowed with its present organs adapted
to earthly conditions, a man suddenly translated into the glories of
a higher world, would with seeing eyes see nothing, with hearing
ears hear nothing and with feeling senses feel nothing. To compre-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 293

hend what there exists and happens, man's own organism must have
undergone a corresponding radical transformation. He must have
new, more perfect senses, higher spiritual and bodily faculties, differ-
ing from his present as far as the objects in this higher world differ
from those on earth. This transfigured body can only be organized
by the same beings that build it here in time. The soul is insep-
arably united with these beings and is where they are.

"Here in time man commences with a cell and with a cell he
must begin in a future life. This first cell with which man enters
his next form of existence cannot logically be any other than the
first dying cell-individual. As no atom, so no elementary unit of the
living spiritual body, is annihilated. Viewed from our present ex-
istence death cannot mean anything to the departed cell-generations
but the cessation of life and activity in the world responsive to our
senses. In reality they rise to a higher evolution under different
conditions and this evolution must be identical with the upbuilding
of the glorified body man shall possess in a future life.

"This form of death and resurrection, natural because it is
founded in the idea and nature of the organism, is common to all
living beings, and must be so, as they are all built according to the
same general plan and therefore essentially subject to the same evolu-
tionary processes. The birth and death of the lower individuals in
whole generations is known to be a universal phenomenon in every
organism."

"If the soul enters as a real part in every individual cell it does
not belong differently to the first generation than to the last, or to
the whole series of intermediary generations. But here in time
man lives only in the generation existing at the present moment. The
generations that in the past successively formed the spiritual sub-
stance of his body have already gone out of time and those that are
coming have not yet made their entrance. Man's entity is thus split
or distributed upon a series of successively existing moments each
of which contains only a certain limited part of the organism, and
the latter has therefore in reality a far broader extent than is seen
at present."

It now only remains for Bjorklund to treat the highly philo-
sophical problem, why living parts in an infinite being must undergo
an evolution in time. After having pointed out that his theory of
death and resurrection necessarily includes the belief in man's pre-
existence, and after further having emphasized the difference be-
tween his conception and those older creeds which consider man as

294 THE MONIST.

living a life separate from that of God, Bjorklund continues in this
connection :

"It is the perennial honor of Sweden's greatest philosopher,
Christofer Jacob Bostrom, to have satisfactorily explained this ex-
tremely difficult and complicated question. He has shown that man,
exactly on the supposition that he is an eternal part of God's being,
requires and must go through an evolution in time. According to
Bostrom religious intuition has found the truth that man is an eternal
idea in God, a living member in His organism. But Bostrom has
also understood and considered the difference implied in thinking
of man as a member in God's organism and in thinking of this mem-
ber as living its independent life. In the former case man possesses
the same qualities as God; in the latter, these qualities with corre-
sponding limitations.

"For an illustration of how all limited beings are incorporated
in an absolute personality, Bostrom likes to fall back on the numer-
ical system. Spiritual beings form a series, as it were, of lower and
higher entities, where the latter contain the former pretty much as
higher numbers contain the smaller.". . . .

"But if Bostrom had lived to study modern cytology he would
have found a more adequate comparison within man's organism, and
one that perhaps in several respects would have modified his concep-
tion of the world of divine ideas.

"God is related to man, as man is, not to the cell, but to the
lower units of which the cell is composed. Between God and man
there is at least one other organism that we know of, namely human-
ity. But if we overlook this and for simplicity's sake imagine the
relationship as that of man to the cell, it should be evident from
what has been previously said, that man is and must be something
else to God than he is to himself.

"To God he is what the cell is to man, a living part in His or-
ganism, and in this capacity he possesses all the perfect qualities of
that organism. Living his independent life, man is in the same posi-
tion as the cell in his own being, when the cell is thought of as living
the life it is confined to by its less perfect organism.

"Although limited to that life the cell may literally be said to
be man's image — but an image of a very singular kind. The cell
does not reproduce man's traits as does a photograph or a statue,
but within its lower realm it mirrors the fundamental qualities of
the original on a very reduced scale.

"These limitations cannot be conceived by the cell as such be-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

cause they are natural to it and belong to its entity. The cell is and
must feel itself as perfect in its realm as man in his. Only if the cell
could compare its condition with man's these limitations would be-
come apparent to it, and such a comparison the cell really undertakes
within certain limits. Into each feeling of want enters a comparison
between the possessed and the desired. In the higher wants then,
that drive the cells to upbuild man's organism we have a manifesta-
tion of such comparing power of the cell. Experience shows that
the cell may live in a veritable natural state, but it is also, because
of the presence of the soul in its innermost being, capable of a high
culture, for the development of which it receives constant impulses
and stimulations from the soul.

"In the same sense man may be said to be the image of God.
Living in the world and in the natural state, to which he is confined
by his relatively imperfect organism, man has the qualities of God
with corresponding limitations. But even in this state he feels the
spirit of God present in him because he is an original part of God's
own organism. In his conscience and his religious feeling man not
only comprehends distinctly the presence of God in his inner being
but constantly receives also impulses, incitements and inspirations
to develop that perfect life and heavenly kingdom, of which he is
called by his high origin and divine birth to become a citizen.

"What the conscience and the religious feelings are to the will,
the logical laws of thinking are to the reason, and in the latter man
finds God again as immediately present as in the former. Indeed
the logical laws are the form in which God himself exists.

"Because of God's presence in the eternal laws of our thinking
man is able to appraise himself and his condition with an absolute
measure and he can in this way obtain a certain knowledge of God's
world and of his perfect qualities. He has only to abstract all wants
and limitations from such qualities as have a positive content, be-
cause lack of want is perfectness."

In the following comparison between the finite and the infinite
Bjorklund rises to a truly poetical height, but we must spare this
part to a reading of the book itself.

"In this light, in this perfectness, man is a part of the divine
entity. This life in God's eternal consciousness is man's primary
and original existence. Only in a secondary meaning is he a self-
existent personality, and is then no more identical with God than the
cell is with man.

"Man as an entity for himself must have the natural limitations

296 THE MONIST.

of the part. Conceived by God man is eternal in the divine sense,
but conceived by himself man's eternal life is clothed in the limita-
tions we call time. The eternal was a constant present without be-
ginning or end, without past or future. What is present to man
must suffer these limitations; in other words, man must be born,
must go through an evolution, or what is the same, become to him-
self what he has been eternally to God. In this respect man's rela-
tion to God may be compared to the relation of a newborn child to
its earthly father. To him the nature and scope of the child is per-
fectly clear, but the child is unconscious of it and must awake to an
understanding thereof, that is to say, must become to itself what it
already is to its father.

"Living beings form a continuous series in the absolute organ-
ism. This series is such that the higher beings form the conditions
and supports of the lower. This connection must be entirely re-
versed during evolution itself which naturally proceeds from the
lower to the higher. In time therefore the generation and develop-
ment of the lower beings must precede that of the higher. We have
also seen that the evolution of the former is identical with the up-
building of the organisms of the latter, and we understand now that
the whole process must essentially follow the course which, as we
have previously shown, it does in fact actually take.

"It is further the inherent idea of time that man's eternal entity
cannot appear whole and undivided. He must plot it out along a
series of successive moments which make room for only one cell-
generation at a time. As the cell's entity again has a less compre-
hensive content than man's, its lifetime must be correspondingly
shorter."

Dr. Carus says in a letter to me that he does not see how Bjork-
lund's theory, interesting as it is, can be of any special value to
religious or emotional life. A strange statement ! Altogether apart
from the question, whether it comes nearer truth than that of Dr.
Carus or not, it first of all grants individual immortality to all living
beings, whereas our life only lasts as long as humanity exists on
earth according to Dr. Carus, as far as I can see. But of a widely
greater emotional value is the relationship between God and man,
which it intimates. If man on a small scale acts as Providence for
the myriads of cells that compose his organism, an almost magic
light is at once thrown on numerous questions which we but dimly
understand from our point of view as cells in a higher organism,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 297

but which we easily comprehend when considering ourselves the
living unifying souls of communities of lower individuals. No warm
prayer of an assembly of cells is unheard. The hunger feeling is
satisfied if all the members do their duty at the soul's command. The
pain in the finger speedily starts the soul to bring relief. The close
interdependence between all the individuals in the ideal socialistic
state organized by the cells in the body of man, is set forth, for in-
stance, in the suffering of the head when the blood circulation in the
feet ceases to function properly; this, to the utter astonishment of
the communities in the head who are aware of no fault of their own.
An "earthquake" takes place when the soul directs the surgeon's
knife to cut deeply into an organ, thereby prematurely it would seem
bringing this existence to an end for thousands of innocent indi-
viduals who cannot possibly see the "divine" reason ; and a scientist
among the cells would find no fault with the "natural" course of the
catastrophe; the terrible wedge that brought the disaster, obeyed
nothing but known natural laws. And so the parallel may go on
almost in infinitutn.

MONTCLAIR, NEW JERSEY. J. E. FRIES.

PLATO'S "IDEA" AND ARISTOTLE'S "ENTELECHY."

Plato's "Idea" was in reality the idea of God, the Creator, and
not of his finite creatures who in all their sciences, as Kepler and
Agassiz truly say, "only think God's thoughts after Him." "Ideas"
belonged before creation, to God's foreknowledge and foreordina-
tion.

Aristotle justly complained that Plato did not connect his "ideas"
with actual things. This was the missing link, which undermined
his philosophy. Only a personal God can connect fore-ordination
with actual existence.

Aristotle "felt after," if he did not fully reach, God, in his
doctrine of the Entelechy (evreAe'xcia: the holding, or completing,
f.\ttv, of the end, reAos) ; i. e., the complete actualization of an exist-
ing thing by the fiat of God, as contrasted with the mere potential
idea or possible existence of it in the foreknowledge and fore-ordina-
tion of God before the work of creation.

Both Plato and Aristotle were, like all men, limited and like
all since Adam, fallen. Yet they were intellectual Titans, struggling
like Hercules, to tear asunder the coils of the serpent which binds
depravity. Both saw as through a glass darkly ; saw men, as trees,

298 THE MONIST.

walking; yet saw the truth in part. Socrates thought if men knew
the truth they would do duty. Plato knew they would not. They
would approve of it but not do it; still they would have real ideas
of truth and duty. Aristotle perceived that those ideas while they
were in the air, would effect nothing; and that they must be made
actual by a supernatural, super-human, super-finite Power, God,
His doctrine of "the Entelechy" as the actualized substance of things,
is perhaps the most advanced thought reached by man without
Revelation. "The World by Wisdom knew not God," i. e., not
adequately to meet its needs. You must search through all Greece,
and through the whole world, said Socrates, for some Charmer to
allay that fear, to meet that need which all men still feel, notwithstand-
ing all that mere speculation can do for them. "I," said Christ, "am the
Light of the World"; "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life."
"Without shedding of blood is no remission of sin" ; "Except a man
be born again he can not see the kingdom of God" ; "There is none
other name under heaven given," etc. The "Charmer" of Socrates,
Plato's supreme "Idea," Aristotle's ultimate "Entelechy," can be
found, and found only, in Christ, in whom dwelt all the fulness of
the Godhead bodily. He is Lord of all.

SAMUEL WARD BOARDMAN.

EDITORIAL COMMENT.

We take great pleasure in offering to our readers this article
from the pen of the professor-emeritus of mental and moral phi-
losophy, and former president of Maryville (Tenn.) College.

As the author states, it is "very brief but treats a very great
subject." Our venerable correspondent declares in his letter: "We
are, I suppose, at the antipodes in philosophy and theology, but on that
account you are the more useful to me, as showing what those really
hold whom I suppose to be wrong."

His kindly disposition appears in the following sentences:
"Those who are commonly called 'orthodox,' are under rather more
obligation than others, because they profess and claim more ; even
'to hope all things, to believe all things, to endure all things.' "

We need not add that a combination of Plato and Aristotle will
be broadening for both. At the same time we too believe in an
entelechy, but the entelechy is immanent, not of an external kind.
The world-order is not a design made after the fashion of a man-
made plan, but it is an intrinsic direction which is such as it mani-
fests itself for instance in evolution, and which can not be otherwise.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

299

This is the meaning of the God-idea, and this leads to the ideal of
the God-man as conceived in Asia under the title Buddha and in
Europe under the name Christ. Perhaps, if we only take away the
belief in the letter of Christian dogmas, we may be in better agree-
ment than President Boardman thinks. Though we may be an-
tipodes now I have held and cherished the views which he espouses,
and I feel still at home among my antipodes. p. c.

A MAGIC CUBE OF SIX.

The two very interesting articles on Oddly-Even Magic Squares
by Messrs. D. F. Savage and W. S. Andrews, which appeared in

139

161

174

147

166

107

188

152

138

103

157

•79

165

184

183

175

170

102

156

148

143

193

215

112

134

120

201

»92

130

206

211

210

202

1(6

129

121

197

IS3

136

163

158

160

IO4

185

181

176

171

100

154

143

144

167

108

189

172

140

162

145

107

212

»26

190

109

131

208

122

138

127

203

117

194

135

133

113

216

ISS

ISO

169

142

IOI

raz

177

IO6

187

173

141

168

lf>0

146

151

137

105

159

I7«

164

186

209

204

128

123

115

196

195

114

133

113

214

200

205

132

124

191

213

Fig. I.

300

THE MONIST.

the January number, might suggest the possibilities of extending
those methods of construction into Nasik cubes. It is an inter-
esting proposition and might lead to many surprising results.

Although the cube to be described here is not exactly of the
nature mentioned above, it follows similar principles of construc-
tion and involves features quite unusual to cubes of this class.

138 3,

Fig. 2.

The six respective layers of this cube are shown in Fig. I. All
of its 108 columns, and its four oblique diagonals give the constant
summation of 651. If we divide this into 27 smaller cubes, which
we will call cubelets, of eight cells each, the six faces, and also
two diagonal planes of any cubelet give constant summations.
For example, we will note the central cubelet of the first and
second layer, which is shown diagrammatically in Fig. 2. Its
summations are as follows.

The six faces:

57 138

192 3

30 165

in 84

138

192

165

192

165

138

390 390 390 390 390

The two diagonal planes :

57 192

30 in

165 84

138 3

390

390 390

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

301

Also, if the sum of the eight cells in each of the cubelets be
taken as a whole, we have a 3X3X3 cube with 37 summations, each
amounting to 2604.

•3

,'8

Fig. 3-

The construction of this cube is by La Hireian method, using
two primary cubes, which are shown in Figs. 3 and 4. Fig. 3 con-
tains 27 cubelets, each containing eight cells with eight equal num-
bers ; the numbers in the respective cubelets ranking in order as the
series, i, 2, 3, 27. These 27 cubelets are arranged according to

302

THE MONIST.

the methods of any 3X3X3 cube. This gives us a primary cube
with all the features of the final cube.

Fig. 4 is also divided into 27 cubelets, each of which must con-
tain the series o, 27, 54, 81, 108, 135, 162, 189. The arrangement
of the numbers in these 27 cubelets must be such as will give the

€

Fig. 4.

primary cube all the required features of the final cube. The eight
numbers of the cubelet series are, for convenience, divided by 27,
and give the series o, I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, which can easily be brought
back to the former series after the primary cube is constructed.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

303

To construct the cubelet, we divide the above series into two
sets of four numbers each, so that the sums of the two sets are equal,
and the complementaries of one set are found in the other. This
division is o, 5, 6, 3 and 7, 2, i, 4, which separates the complemen-
taries and gives two sets, each amounting to 14. We can place one
set in any desired order on one face, and it only remains to place
the four complementaries in the opposite face, so that the four lines
connecting complementary pairs are parallel.

These cubelets are arranged in the primary cube with the
o, 5, 6, 3 faces placed in the ist, 3d, and 5th layers, and the 7, 2, I, 4
faces placed in the 2d, 4th, and 6th layers, which arrangement satis-
fies the summations perpendicular to the layers.

It now remains to adjust the pairs in the cubelets to suit the
summations in the layers and the four diagonals. We first arrange
the pairs that will give the diagonal summations, and by doing so,
we set the position of four numbers in each of the layers 3 and 4,
and eight numbers in each of the layers i, 2, 5 and 6. We then ar-
range the remaining numbers in the layers i, 3 and 5 to suit the
twelve summations of each layer, which consequently locates the
numbers for layers 2, 4 and 6, since complementary pairs must lie
perpendicularly to the cubes layers. This gives us a primary cube
such as that shown in Fig. 4.

The numbers in each cell of Fig. 4 must then be multiplied by
27, and added to the respective cells in Fig. 3, which combination
gives us the final cube shown in Fig. i.

HARRY A. SAYLES.

SCHENECTADY, N. Y.

MAGIC CUBE ON SIX.

FIRST OR TOP SQUARE. SECOND SQUARE.

106

212

209

109

199

n 6

195

196

114

200

»3

202

103

100

205

208

104

112

210

211

107

166

130

129

164

152

148

137

143

ISI

150

142

140

128

157

154

124

126

155

<S3

161

131

»33

167

304 THE MONIST.

THIRD SQUARE. FOURTH SQUARE.

163

135

136

«7

165

145

149

144

138

146

147

139

141

121

156

159

125

123

158

160

122

1 68

134

132

162

192

191

176

174

172

175

182

183

1 80

184

1 88

190

FIFTH SQUARE.

SIXTH OR BOTTOM SQUARE.

185

186

169

171

173

170

179

178

181

177

189

187

213

216

108

194

117

120

198

197

119

n 8

193

206

207

IOI

204

201

102

105

215

214

In the cube, whose horizontal squares are here shown, the
sum of each of the normal rows (those perpendicular to the
faces of the cube) is 651, and the sum of each of the sixteen
diagonals connecting the corners of the cube is the same.

These diagonals include the entire diagonals of the surfaces
of the cube and the four diagonals of the solid running from corner
to corner through the center of the cube.

Top Square.
Bottom Square.

DIAGONALS.

106 116 115 103 104 107

IO9 12 II 2O2 2O5 112

in 117 118 98 97 no

108 13 14 207 204 105

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

305

Front Square.
Rear Square.
Left Square.
Right Square.

Diagonals of
the Solid.

The foregoing cube was constructed in the following manner.
The foundation of this construction is the cube on 3 which is
shown in the following squares.

112 131 132 82 84 no

107 31 29 190 189 105

106 130 136 83 88 108

109 30 25 191 185 in

106 37 40 182 181 105
112 126 121 89 92 in

109 34 38 183 177 1 10

107 127 125 90 94 108

SECOND OR
MIDDLE SQUARE.

THIRD OR
BOTTOM SQUARE

The sum of each normal row in the above cube, whether run-
ning from left to right, from rear to front or from top to bottom,
is 42; and the sum of each diagonal of which the central term 14
is a member, as 19 14 9, 5 14 23, 15 14 13, etc., is also 42.

Deduct i from each term of the above cube and multiply
the remainder by 8. With each of these multiples construct a cubic
group consisting of eight repetitions of the multiple. Substitute
each of these groups for that term of the cube from which it was
derived, and the result will be a cube with six terms in each row.
The horizontal squares of this cube are shown in the following
figures, the second square being the same as the first, the fourth
as the third, and the sixth as the fifth.

306

THE MONIST.

BASIC CUBE.
FIRST, OR TOP, AND SECOND SQUARES.

144

136

144

136

128

160

128

160

120

152

IS2

120

152

THIRD AND FOURTH SQUARES.

FIFTH AND SIXTH SQUARES.

112

103

192

112

192

102

104

208

104

208

200

168

184

176

THE BASIC CUBE.

The sum of the terms in each normal row of the preceding
cube is 624, and the sum of each diagonal which includes two terms
from the central group of the cube is also 624. It follows that the
middle two squares in each normal direction are magical and that
each diagonal of the solid has the same sum as the normal rows.
This cube is called the basic cube.

THE GROUP CUBE.

Another magic cube with six terms in each row was next con-
structed. This cube is called the group cube. Each position which
in the basic cube is occupied by a cubic group of eight equal num-
bers is occupied in the group cube by a cubic group consisting of
the numbers i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. All of the rows and diagonals

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

307

which have equal sums in the basic cube will have equal sums in the
group cube.

THE GROUP CUBE.

FIRST OR TOP SQUARE.

THIRD SQUARE.

FIFTH SQUARE.

SECOND SQUARE.

FOURTH SQUARE.

SIXTH OR BOTTOM SQUARE.

THE COMPLETE CUBE.

Adding together the terms which occupy corresponding posi-
tions in the basic cube and the group cube the result is the complete
cube shown below which contains the numbers from i to 6s = 216.

308

THE MONIST.

THE COMPLETE CUBE.
FIRST OR TOP SQUARE. SECOND SQUARE.

146

141

139

149

145

138

144

136

135

163

165

132

134

168

162

123

160

158

121

125

159

156

THIRD SQUARE.

196

200

113

116

199

195

106

109

209

212

112

107

211

210

208

205

104

202

203

100

103

FIFTH SQUARE.

170

»73

I7i

169

186

185

187

189

5«

181

177

179

178

ISO

151

140

142

148

152

143

137

129

130

166

164

133

131

161

167

126

127

153

155

128

124

154

157

FOURTH SQUARE.

118

119

197

193

120

194

198

III

10^

216

213

105

214

215

201

204

102

207

205

»9

IOI

SIXTH OR BOTTOM SQUARE.

175

172

174

176

191

192

100

188

180

184

182

'83

THE FINAL CUBE.

In the complete cube, just given, the middle two squares in each
direction are magical while the outer squares are not.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 309

To bring these magical squares to the surface the squares of
each set of parallel squares may be permuted as follows:

Original order I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

Permuted order 3, 2, i, 6, 5, 4.

The result is the final cube shown in the beginning of this article.

The above permutation is subject to two conditions. The sev-
eral sets of parallel squares must all be permuted in the same man-
ner. Any two parallel squares which in the original cube are located
on opposite sides of the middle plane of the cube and at an equal
distance from it, in the permuted cube must be located on opposite
sides of the middle plane of the cube and at an equal distance from it.
These conditions are for the protection of the diagonals.

JOHN WORTHINGTON.

MAGIC IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION.

Definition of terms : Row is a general term ; rank denotes a hori-
zontal right-to-left row; file a row from front to back; and column
a vertical row in a cube — not used of any horizontal dimension.

If n2 numbers of a given series can be grouped so as to form a
magic square and n such squares be so placed as to constitute a
magic cube, why may we not go a step further and group n cubes
in relations of the fourth dimension? In a magic square containing

the natural series I . . .n2 the summation is — -; in a magic cube

M/.,3_l_,\ ^

with the series i...n*it is — -; and in an analogous fourth-

n(n* I i)
dimension construction it naturally will be — - — — -.

With this idea in mind I have made some experiments, and the
results are interesting. The analogy with squares and cubes is not
perfect, for rows of numbers can be arranged side by side to repre-
sent a visible square, squares can be piled one upon another to make
a visible cube, but cubes cannot be so combined in drawing as to
picture to the eye their higher relations. My expectation a priori
was that some connection or relation, probably through some form
of diagonal-of-diagonal, would be found to exist between the cubes
containing the n4 terms of a series. This particular feature did ap-
pear in the cases where n was odd. Here is how it worked out :

I. When n is odd.

i. Let n=3, then 8=123. — The natural series i...8i was di-
vided into three sub-series such that the sum of each would be

3io

THE MONIST.

one-third the sum of the whole. In dealing with any such series
when n is odd there will be n sub-series, each starting with one of
the first n numbers, and the difference between successive terms will
be w-f-i, except after a multiple of n, when the difference is I. In
the present case the three sub-series begin respectively with i, 2, 3,
and the first is I 5 9 10 14 18 19 23 27 28 32 36 37 41 45 46 50 54
55 59 ^3 64 68 72 73 77 81. These numbers were arranged in
three squares constituting a magic cube, and the row of squares
so formed was flanked on right and left by similar rows formed from
the other two sub-series (see Fig. i).

It is not easy — perhaps it is not possible — to make an abso-
lutely perfect cube of 3. These are not perfect, yet they have many

Fig. i. (34)

striking features. Taking the three cubes separately we find that
in each all the "straight" dimensions — rank, file and column — have
the proper footing, 123. In the middle cube there are two plane
diagonals having the same summation, and in cubes I and III one
each. In cube II four cubic diagonals and four diagonals of vertical
squares are correct ; I and III each have one cubic diagonal and one
vertical-square diagonal.

So much for the original cubes; now for some combinations.
The three squares on the diagonal running down from left to right
will make a magic cube with rank, file, column, cubic diagonals,
two plane diagonals and four vertical-square diagonals (37 in all)
correct. Two other cubes can be formed by starting with the top
squares of II and III respectively and following the "broken diag-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

onals" running downward to the right. In each of these S occurs
at least 28 times (in 9 ranks, 9 files, 9 columns and one cubic diag-
onal). Various other combinations may be found by taking the
squares together in horizontal rows and noting how some columns
and assorted diagonals have the proper summation, but the most
important and significant are those already pointed out. In all the
sum 123 occurs over 200 times in this small figure.

317

473

604

|6l

702

348

470

5io

223

354

385

536

507

229

260

411

442

5'*

104

'35

lift

292

44*

6 10

.67

323

454

485

198

329

360

386

542

204

235

261

4'7

573

423

554

236

igC

4->9

585

142

173

304

460

fill

i/9

335

486

5'7

548

210

36'

392

211

367

398

529

242

273

404

560

586

141

2/9

435

40.

617

-'3

'54

310

330

492

5-'3

,0r

504

1 86

34-'

498

379

535

-'17

373

254

410

56)

248

120

285

43<

59-'

123

160

3ii

407

('23

606

168

324

455

48.

51-'

1 90

330

356

387

543

205

231

262

418

574

106

'37

-'93

449

580

299

430

581

112

'43

174

305

456

612

180

331

487

5 '8

549

206

302

393

424

555

237

268

-'43

274

405

556

587

118

149

280

43'

462

618

155

306

337

493

524

181

212

368

399

530

38o

531

2l8

374

255

406

502

249

130

281

437

593

124

156

312

46S

624

505

187

343

499

"93

349

480

506

224

355

38i

537

230

256

412

443

599

105

I3i

287

318

474

605

162

'75

301

457

613

•76

332

488

519

550

207

303

394

425

551

-'38

269

300

426

5S2

113

'44

588

119

'SO

•X"

432

463

6.<;

IS'

307

338

494

525

182

21?

369

400

526

244

275

40J

557

25'

407

563

250

126

282

438

594

125

'57

3'3

|69

501

1 88

344

500

376

552

219

375

2-'5

351

3*2

S3*

569

IOO

22&

257

444

600

101

132

2f>8

475

60 1

'63

'94

350

476

507

4S»

5J3

200

3--6

357

388

544

201

232

263

4'9

575

107

.38

-•94

45°

576

607

169

325

45i

464

620

'32

308

339

495

52!

18.3

214

17o

396

527

-45

271

402

558

589

120

146

-'77

433

127

«J

439

595

12!

•58

4/0

621

502

If*

345

496

'77

C33

220

17i

252

408

564

246

5/0

.'-'7

«l

445

596

102

'33

47'

602

164

105

346

477

508

221

352

3S3

539

358

545

202

233

264

420

571

IDS

139

295

446

577

170

321

45-'

483

327

177

333

4%;

520

540

208

364

395

421

55-'

-'39

270

427

58;,

i?'

302

458

614

315

4ft,

622

503

190

341

497

•>34

216

V-'

-53

4<*J

247

128

284

440

591

122

441

103

134

290

3i'>

9»

(«>3

165

478

jog

6fi

<84

288

259

4'S

234

4 '0

572

I of;

201

KXj

K /i

453

4X4

515

197

v«

1)0

541

203

547

209

19'

42i

S53

jtf

207

42.S

584

303

»5

178

490

5'6

340

491

522

184

2'5

366

397

>!'

-7-'

403

559

rt)

-•78

434

465

616

30S

Fig. 2. (S4)

One most interesting fact remains to be noticed. While the
three cubes were constructed separately and independently the figure
formed by combining them is an absolutely perfect square of 9, with
a summation of 369 in rank, file and corner diagonal (besides all
"broken" diagonals running downward to the right), and a perfect

312 THE MONIST.

balancing of complementary numbers about the center. Any such
pair, taken with the central number 41, gives us the familiar sum 123,
and this serves to bind the whole together in a remarkable manner.

2. Let w=5, then 8=1565. — In Fig. 2 is represented a group
of 5-cubes each made up of the numbers in a sub-series of the nat-
ural series i . . .625. In accordance with the principle stated in a pre-
vious paragraph the central sub-series is i 7 13 19 25 26 32 ... 625,
and the other four can easily be discovered by inspection. Each of
the twenty-five small squares has the summation 1565 in rank, file,
corner diagonal and broken diagonals, twenty times altogether in
each square, or 500 times for all.

Combining the five squares in col. I we have a cube in which
all the 75 "straight" rows (rank, file and vertical column), all the
horizontal diagonals and three of the four cubic diagonals foot up
1565. In cube III all the cubic diagonals are correct. Each cube
also has seven vertical-square diagonals with the same summation.
Taking together the squares in horizontal rows we find certain
diagonals having the same sum, but the columns do not. The five
squares in either diagonal of the large square, however, combine to
produce almost perfect cubes, with rank, file, column and cubic
diagonals all correct, and many diagonals of vertical squares.

A still more remarkable fact is that the squares in the broken
diagonals running in either direction also combine to produce cubes
as nearly perfect as those first considered. Indeed, the great square
seems to be an enlarged copy of the small squares, and where the
cells in the small ones unite to produce S the corresponding squares
in the large figure unite to produce cubes more or less perfect.
Many other combinations are discoverable, but these are sufficient
to illustrate the principle, and show the interrelations of the cubes
and their constituent squares. The summation 1565 occurs in this
figure not less than 1400 times.

The plane figure containing the five cubes (or twenty-five
squares) is itself a perfect square with a summation of 7825
for every rank, file, corner or broken diagonal. Furthermore all
complementary pairs are balanced about the center, as in Fig. i.
Any square group of four, nine or sixteen of the small squares is
magic, and if the group of nine is taken at the center it is "perfect."
It is worthy of notice that all the powers of n above the first lie in
the middle rank of squares, and that all other multiples of n are
grouped in regular relations in the other ranks and have the same

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

313

grouping in all the squares of any given rank. The same is true
of the figure illustrating 7*, which is to be considered next.

3. Let n=7, then 8=8407. — This is so similar in all its prop-
erties to the 5-construction just discussed that it hardly needs sep-
arate description. It is more nearly perfect in all its parts than the
5*, having a larger proportion of its vertical-square diagonals cor-
rect. Any square group of four, nine, sixteen, twenty-five or thirty-
six small squares is magic, and if the group of nine or twenty-five

255

254

248

245

240

237

231

230

252

249

243

242

235

234

228

225

250

251

241

244

233

236

226

227

253

256

246

247

238

239

229

232

224

221

215

214

207

206

200

197

219

218

212

209

204

201

195

194

217

220

2IO

211

202

203

193

196

36,

222

223

213

216

205

208

198

199

192

189

183

182

175

174

168

165

187

186

1 80

177

172

169

163

162

185

188

178

179

170

171

161

164

190

191

181

184

173

176

1 66

167

159

158

100

152

106

107

149

144

114

141

121

135

134

124

156

102

103

153

109

147

146

112

1 17

139

138

120

132

126

127

129

104

154

155

101

145

148

137

119

118

140

128

130

131

125

157

160

108

ISO

151

105

116

142

143

133

123

122

136

Fig. 3- (44)

be taken at the center of the figure it is "perfect." The grouping
of multiples and powers of n is very similar to that already described
for 5*.

II. When n is even.

I. Let n=4, then 8=514. — The numbers may be arranged in
either of two ways. If we take the diagram for the 4-cube as

"295

1294

1292

1278

1276

'273

'259

1258

1256

1,290

1288

1287

1271

1268

1272

'254

.1252

1251

1284

1283

1279

1264

1263

1265

1248

'247

'243

1281

1282

1280

1266

1262

1261

1245

1246

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1286

1289

1285

1267

1270

1269

1250

1253

1249

I-<JI

'293

1296

1277

'275

'274

1255

'257

1260

1188

1 1 86

"83

127

1169

H 68

129

1166

'32

1152

146

'47

1150

149

"47

1181

118

1178

1182

1164

'34

1162

1161

'37

'33

'5'

"45

'53

'54

1142

"46

121

122

"74

"73

"75

126

"58

"67

141

142

140

"53

'57

'58

"38

"37

"39

162

1176

U72

124

123

125

1171

'39

'43

"55

"56

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'44

1140

1136

160

'59

161

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119

1180

"79

1 16

120

<38

1160

'35

'36

1163

"59

1141

'55

"44

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152

'56

114

Il87

1185

112

1184

109

1165

128

130

1167

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1170

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"49

148

1148

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217

1079

1078

219

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222

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236

237

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239

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224

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260

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263

259

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1067

231

232

230

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247

248

1048

1047

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252

1032

1031

267

268

266

1027

229

233

1065

1066

1664

234

1050

1046

250

249

25'

1045

265

269

1029

1030

1028

270

228

IO7O

225

226

1073

1069

1051

245

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242

246

264

1034

261

262

1037

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1075

218

220

1077

221

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240

1061

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238

1058

235

1039

254

256

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257

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431

430

867

428

870

414

884

885

887

409

901

395

394

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392

906

426

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424

423

875

871

889

407

891

892

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408

390

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388

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420

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880

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415

895

896

400

399

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384

383

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914

379

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418

416

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402

398

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897

899

397

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380

918

876

422

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406

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890

894

912

386

909

910

389

385

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866

868

429

869

432

888

4'3

886

410

883

39''

902

904

393

90S

396

864

434

435

862

437

859

45"

845

844

453

842

45*

828

470

47'

826

473

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858

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704

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593

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577

Fig. 4, First Part. (64:S=389i)

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1227

1230

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IOI1

284

1014

1 038

290

291

1006

293

1003

990

308

309

988

985

282

1016

280

279

1019

1015

295

1001

297

298

998

1 002

3'3

983

3'5

3'6

980

984

276

275

1023

1024

1022

271

301

302

994

993

995

306

3'9

320

976

975

977

324

IO2I

1025

273

274

272

1026

996

992

304

303

305

99'

978

974

322

32'

323

973

1O2O

278

1017

1018

28l

277

997

299

1OOO

999

296

300

979

3'7

982

981

3'4

3'8

283

1010

IOI2

285

1013

288

294

1007

1005

292

1004

289

3'2

989

987

3'0

986

307

361

935

934

363

932

366

360

938

939

358

94'

355

342

956

957

340

959

337

930

368

928

927

37'

3*7

943

353

945

946

350

354

961

335

963

964

332

336

924

0^3

375

376

374

919

949

950

346

345

347

954

967

968

328

327

329

972

373

377

921

922

920

378

348

344

952

95'

953

343

330

326

970

969

97'

325

372

926

369

370

929

925

349

947

352

35'

944

948

33'

965

334

333

962

966

93'

3'*

3^4

933

365

936

942

359

357

940

356

937

960

34'

339

958

338

955

5<M

794

795

502

797

499

505

79'

790

507

788

510

523

773

772

525

770

528

799

497

801

802

494

498

786

5'2

784

783

5'5

768

530

766

765

533

529

805

806

490

489

49'

810

780

779

5'9

520

5'8

775

762

76;

537

538

536

757

492

488

808

807

809

487

5'7

521

777

778

776

522

535

539

759

760

758

540

493

803

496

495

800

804

5'6

782

5'3

5'4

785

781

534

764

53'

532

767

763

79*

503

SO'

796

500

793

787

506

5o8

789

509

792

769

524

526

771

527

774

612

686

687

610

689

607

6.3

683

682

6'5

680

618

63'

665

664

633

662

636

69.

605

693

694

602

606

678

620

676

675

623

619

660

638

658

657

641

637

697

698

598

597

599

702

672

671

627

628

626

667

654

653

645

646

644

649

600

596

700

699

701

595

625

629

669

670

668

630

643

647

«5'

652

650

648

601

695

604

603

692

696

624

674

621

622

677

6?3

642

656

639

640

659

655

690

611

Coy

688

608

685

679

614

616

681

617

684

661

632

634

663

635

666

Fig. 4, Second Part. (6*: 8=3891)

316

THE MONIST.

given in Magic Squares and Cubes and simply extend it to cover
the larger numbers involved we shall have a group of four cubes
in which all the "straight" dimensions have 8=514, but no diag-
onals except the four cubic diagonals. Each horizontal row of
squares will produce a cube having exactly the same properties as
those in the four vertical rows. If the four squares in either diag-

409S

4094

4)391

4090

4032

4029

4028

402S

4088

4085

4084

4081

4023

4022

4019

4018

do8o

4077

4076

4073

4015

4014

4011

4010

4071

4070

4067

4066

4008

4005

4004

4001

4065

4068

4069

4072

4002

4003

4006

4007

4074

4075

4078

4079

4009

4012

4013

4016

4082

4083

4086

4087

4017

4020

4021

4024

4089

4092

4093

4096

4026

4027

4030

4031

4064

4061

4060

4057

3999

3998

100

101

3995

3994

104

4055

4054

4051

4050

3992

106

107

3989

3988

3985

4047

4046

4043

4042

3984

114

3981

398o

118

119

3977

4040

4037

4036

4033

121

3975

3974

124

125

397i

3970

128

4034

4035

4038

4039

3969

127

126

3972

3973

123

122

3976

4041

4044

4045

4.048

120

3978

3979

117

116

3982

3983

113

4049

4052

4053

4056

112

3986

3987

109

108

3990

3991

IPS

4058

4059

4062

4063

3993

103

102

3996

3997

4000

II IV

Fig. 5, 8*, First Part (One cube written).

onal of the figure be piled together neither vertical columns nor
cubic diagonals will have the correct summation, but all the diagonals
of vertical squares in either direction will. Regarding the whole
group of sixteen squares as a plane square we find it magic, having
the summation 2056 in every rank, file and corner diagonal, 1028

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

317

in each half- rank or half-file, and 514 in each quarter- rank or
quarter-file. Furthermore all complementary pairs are balanced about
the center.

The alternative arrangement shown in Fig. 3 makes each of the
small squares perfect in itself, with every rank, file and corner diag-
onal footing up 514 and complementary pairs balanced about the

VII

3968

130

131

3965

3964

134

135

396i

193

3903

3902

196

197

3899

3898

200

137

3959

3958

140

141

3955

3954

144

3896

202

203

3893

3892

206

207

3889

145

3951

3950

148

3947

3946

152

3888

2IO

211

3885

3884

214

215

3881

3944

154

155

3941

3940

158

159

3937

217

3879

3878

220

221

3875

3874

224

160

3938

3939

157

156

3942

3943

153

3873

223

222

3876

3877

219

218

3880

3945

151

ISO

3948

3949

147

146

3952

216

3882

3883

213

212

3886

3887

209

3953

143

142

3956

3957

139

138

3960

208

3890

3891

205

204

3894

3895

201

136

3962

3963

133

132

3966

3967

129

3897

199

198

3900

3901

195

194

3904

161

3935

3934

164

165

3931

3930

1 68

3872

226

227

3869

3868

230

231

386S

3928

170

171

3925

3924

»74

175

3921

233

3863

3862

236

237

3859

3858

24O

3920

178

179

3917

39i6

182

183

3913

241

3855

3854

244

245

3851

3850

248

185

3911

3910

1 88

189

3907

3906

192

3848

25O

251

3845

3844

254

255

3841

3905

191

190

3908

3909

187

186

3912

256

3842

3843

253

252

3846

3847

249

184

39M

3915

181

180

39i8

3919

177

3849

247

i^ft

3852

3853

243

•*jp

3856

176

3922

3923

173

172

3926

3927

169

3857

239

238

3860

3861

235

234

3864

3929

167

1 66

3932

3933

163

162

3936

232

3866

3867

229

228

3870
L.

3871

225

VI VIII

Fig. 5» 8*, Second Part (One cube written).

center. As in the other arrangement the squares in each vertical
or horizontal row combine to make cubes whose "straight" dimen-
sions all have the right summation. In addition the new form has
the two plane diagonals of each original square (eight for each
cube), but sacrifices the four cubic diagonals in each cube. In lieu

318 THE MONIST.

of these we find a complete set of "bent diagonals" ("Franklin")
like those described for the magic cube of six in The Monist for
July, 1909.

If the four squares in either diagonal of the large figure be
piled up it will be found that neither cubic diagonal nor vertical
column is correct, but that all diagonals of vertical squares facing
toward front or back are. Taken as a plane figure the whole group
makes up a magic square of 16 with the summation 2056 in every
rank, file or corner diagonal, half that summation in half of each
of those dimensions, and one-fourth of it in each quarter dimension.

2. Let n=6, then 8=3891. — With the natural series I...I296
squares were constructed which combined to produce the six magic
cubes of six indicated by the Roman numerals in Fig. 4. These
have all the characteristics of the 6-cube described in The Monist
of July last — 108 "straight" rows, 12 plane diagonals and 24 "bent"
diagonals in each cube, with the addition of 32 vertical-square
diagonals if the squares are piled in a certain order. A seventh
cube with the same features is made by combining the squares in
the lowest horizontal row — i. e., the bottom squares of the num-
bered cubes. The feature of the cubic bent diagonals is found on
combining any three of the small squares, no matter in what order
they are taken. In view of the recent discussion of this cube it seems
unnecessary to give any further account of it now.

The whole- figure, made up as it is of thirty-six magic squares,
is itself a magic square of 36 with the proper summation (23346)
for every rank, file and corner diagonal, and the corresponding
fractional part of that for each half, third or sixth of those dimen-
sions. Any square group of four, nine, sixteen or twenty-five of the
small squares will be magic in all its dimensions.

3. Let w=8, then 8=16388. — The numbers I...4O96 may be
arranged in several different ways. If the diagrams in Mr. An-
drews's book be adopted we have a group of eight cubes in which
rank, file, column and cubic diagonal are correct (and in which
the halves of these dimensions have the half summation), but all
plane diagonals are irregular. If the plan be adopted of construct-
ing the small squares of complementary couplets, as in the 6-cube,
the plane diagonals are equalized at the cost of certain other features.
I have used therefore a plan which combines to some extent the ad-
vantages of both the others.

It will be noticed that each of the small squares in Fig. 5 is

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 319

perfect in that it has the summation 16388 for rank, file and corner
diagonal (also for broken diagonals if each of the separated parts
contain two, four or six — not an odd number of cells), and in balan-
cing complementary couplets. When the eight squares are piled
one upon the other a cube results in which rank, file, column, the
plane diagonals of each horizontal square, the four ordinary cubic
diagonals and 32 cubic bent diagonals all have 8=16388. What is
still more remarkable, the half of each of the "straight" dimensions
and of each cubic diagonal has half that sum. Indeed this cube of
eight can be sliced into eight cubes of 4 in each of which every rank,
file, column and cubic diagonal has the footing 8194; and each of
these 4-cubes can be subdivided into eight tiny 2-cubes in each of
which the eight numbers foot up 16388.

So much for the features of the single cube here presented.
As a matter of fact only the one cube has actually been written out.
The plan of its construction, however, is so simple and the relations
of numbers so uniform in the powers of 8 that it was easy to in-
vestigate the properties of the whole 84 scheme without having the
squares actually before me. I give here the initial number of each
of the eight squares in each of the eight cubes, leaving it for some
one possessed of more leisure to write them all out and verify my
statements as to the intercubical features. It should be remembered
that in each square the number diagonally opposite the one here
given is its complement, i. e., the number which added to it will
give the sum 4097.

III

VII

VIII

3840

3584

769

3072

1281

1537

2304

4064

289

545

3296

1057

2784

2528

1825

4032

321

577

3264

1089

2752

2496

1857

3744

3488

865

2976

1377

1633

2208

3968

385

641

3200

"53

2688

2432

1921

161

3680

3424

929

2912

1441

1697

2144

193

3648

3392

961

2880

1473

1729

2112

3872

481

737

3i<H

1249

2592

2336

2017

16388 16388 16388 16388 16388 16388 16388 16388

Each of the sixty-four numbers given above will be at the
upper left-hand corner of a square and its complement at the lower
right-hand corner. The footings given are for these initial numbers,

32O THE MONIST.

but the arrangement of numbers in the squares is such that the
footing will be the same for every one of the sixty-four columns
in each cube. If the numbers in each horizontal line of the table
above be added they will be found to have the same sum: conse-
quently the squares headed by them must make a cube as nearly
perfect as the example given in Fig. 5, which is cube I of the table
above. But the sum of half the numbers in each line is half of
16388, and hence each of the eight cubes formed by taking the
squares in the horizontal rows is capable of subdivision into 4-cubes
and 2-cubes, like our original cube. We thus have sixteen cubes,
each with the characteristics described for the one presented in

Fig. 5-

If we pile the squares lying in the diagonal of our great square
(starting with I, 289, etc., or 2304, 2528, etc.) we find that its col-
umns and cubic diagonals are not correct; but all the diagonals of
its vertical squares are so, and even here the remarkable feature of
the half-dimension persists.

Of course there is nothing to prevent one's going still further
and examining constructions involving the fifth or even higher pow-
ers, but the utility of such research may well be doubted. The purpose
of this article is to suggest in sketch rather than to discuss exhaus-
tively an interesting field of study for some one who may have time
to develop it.

H. M. KINGERY.

WABASH COLLEGE.

EDWARD C. HEGELER.

Frontispiece to The Open Court.

TV yf R. Edward C. Hegeler of La Salle, Illinois, the founder of
*•*•*• The Open Court and president of the Open Court Publishing
Company, passed away peacefully after a short illness on Saturday,
June 4, at eight o'clock in the evening.

Imposing in his appearance, venerable in his full snow-white
hair and beard, and commanding respect with the serious expression
of his broad-browed face, he was like one of the ancient patriarchs,
wont to lead and to be obeyed. Being descended from an East
Frisian family, he was a typical Teuton, tall and hardy, blue eyed
and frank, manly and absolutely reliable in word and deed. He was
a man incapable of telling a lie, and none who knew him would ever
have believed that he could break a promise or shirk a duty.

He was born September 13, 1835, m tne °ld Hansa town,
Bremen, Germany, and he was proud of the Republican institutions
of his native city.

It had been the wish of Mr. Hegeler's father, Hermann Dietrich
Hegeler of Bremen, originally of Oldenburg, to have one of his
sons settle in the United States, a country in which he himself had
traveled and in the development of which he took a great interest.
He was anxious to have his family represented here in this country
and take an active part in its destinies. For this purpose he selected
his youngest son Edward, who was educated with this end in view.
It was thus but natural that Mr. Hegeler imbibed an American
patriotism from his earliest childhood, but it would be wrong to
think that his American patriotism ever antagonized his love of
Germany, of the German people, customs and traditions, and their
many noble aspirations in the arts and sciences. On the contrary,

he wanted to carry the German spirit into the new world on a soil
favorable to its further growth. He wanted to transplant the seeds
of German culture into his new home, and he was always ready to
do his best to preserve friendly relations and mutual respect between
the two nations.

Mr. Hegeler attended school in the Academy at Schnepfenthal.
He then studied mechanical engineering at the Polytechnic Insti-
tute at Hanover, 1851-53, and in the school of mines at Freiberg,
Saxony, 1853-56, here mainly under Prof. Julius Weisbach.

Accompanied by his friend and fellow student at Freiberg, Mr.
F. W. Matthiessen, Mr. Hegeler traveled for some months on the
Continent and in England, whence they embarked for America
and landed in Boston in March 1857. While looking over the
country for a proper place to settle they learned of Friedensville,
Pennsylvania, where a zinc factory had been built, but it stood idle
because the owners had not been able to manufacture the zinc. Mr.
Matthiessen and Mr. Hegeler, then 21 and 22 years old, stepped in
and with the same furnace succeeded in producing spelter, which
at that time was pioneer work in America, for hitherto this metal
had been imported from Europe. On account of the financial
stringency of 1856, which still persisted in 1857, the owners of the
Friedensville works refused to put more money into the enterprise,
while neither Mr. Hegeler nor Mr. Matthiessen felt justified in
risking their own capital, mainly because they had no confidence in
the mines, which actually gave out eight years later.

Having further on investigated conditions in Pittsburg and
Johnsville, Pa., and also in southeastern Missouri, Mr. Hegeler and
Mr. Matthiessen finally decided upon La Salle, Illinois, because its
coal fields were nearest to the ore supply at Mineral Point, Wiscon-
sin. Here they started the Matthiessen and Hegeler Zinc Works
on a small scale, on the same spot on which the present large plant
is still operated.

Mr. Hegeler returned in 1860 to Germany, where on April 5
he married Camilla Weisbach, the daughter of his admired teacher.
In July of the same year the young couple settled in La Salle, where
with few interruptions they lived until the end of their lives. Mrs.

Hegeler died only two years ago, May 28, 1908. Ten children were
born to them, of whom seven survive, two sons and five daughters ;
and there are twenty-three grandchildren.

Mr. Hegeler's religion was simple enough, but like many simple
things it is not easy for every one to understand. His ancestors
had belonged to the Reformed Church, and the intellectual atmos-
phere of his father's house which surrounded him in his childhood
was liberal. In Schnepfenthal he came in contact with the pietistic
traditions of that institution, and he was deeply impressed with its
devotional spirit, especially as it found utterance in song. When
further experience in life broadened him, he surrendered his belief
in Christian dogmatism but he preserved that seriousness of purpose,
that moral endeavor, that profound faithfulness which characterizes
all true religion. He had found the necessary correctives in the
monistic conception of science. His idea of God had changed, but
his "Religion of Science" would not dispense with God. With
Goethe he saw God in nature, and recognized him as that power
which enforces a definite kind of conduct. Morality is not what we
think is good, but what can stand the test in the furnace of thor-
ough and continued experience; it is for us to decipher the hand-
writing of God.

There was no need to look for a heaven in the clouds ; the prom-
ises of providence fulfil all the expectations we can have here on
earth. Every new discovery reveals new glories, and in this sense
Mr. Hegeler remembered an old Moravian hymn expressing the
sentiments of the passage in I Corinthians ii. 9:

"Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of
man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him."

"Was noch kein Auge sah,
Was noch kein Ohr vernahm,
Was je hienieden
Kein Menschenherz empfand,
Das hat Gott denen
Mit Huld beschieden,
Die bis an's Ende
Getreu ihn lieben."

Mr. Hegeler took great interest in psychology and found the
key to its problems in the proposition, "I am my ideas." He argued
that a man is wherever his ideas are. Our ancestors survive in us,
and we shall survive wherever future generations think our thoughts
and act as we would have acted. He deemed it the highest duty
of every man to work out his own immortality. In his own con-
ception, though he has ceased to be with us in the flesh, he has not
passed from us. He is with us in spirit, and his soul remains a
potent presence so long as his work, his thoughts, his ideals will
persist.

For the sake of presenting his solution of the religious problem,
the foundation of religion and ethics on a strictly scientific basis.
Mr. Hegeler founded and endowed The Open Court Publishing
Company, which has published The Open Court since February 17,
1887, and The Monist since October i, 1890; the former in the first
year as a fortnightly, then as a weekly, and since 1897 as a monthly
periodical, illustrated and popular in style; the latter a quarterly
serving the same purpose, but open also to a more rigorous scien-
tific treatment of religio-philosophical questions.

In the light of a scientific interpretation of the main doctrines
of religion, Mr. Hegeler began thus to find a deep meaning in the
old dogmas, and his sympathies were not limited to the faith of his
childhood but to all religions, of which each in its own way more
or less clearly expresses the same truths and preaches the same
ethics. He counted among his friends not only some of the greatest
scientists of the age, men like Ernst Mach and Ewald Hering,
George J. Romanes, Hugo De Vries and the late Oxford scholar
F. Max Muller, but also Buddhists and Catholic priests, Protestants
and Freethinkers. With all the definiteness of his convictions he
was broad in his sympathies, and to sum up we may without exagge-
ration say of him:

"He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again."

VOL. XX. JULY, 1910. NO. 3.

THE MONIST

MATHEMATICAL CREATION.1

HP HE genesis of mathematical creation is a problem
JL which should intensely interest the psychologist. It
is the activity in which the human mind seems to take least
from the outside world, in which it acts or seems to act
only of itself and on itself, so that in studying the procedure
of geometric thought we may hope to reach what is most
essential in man's mind.

This has long been appreciated, and some time back
the journal called L'enseignement mathematique , edited
by Laisant and Fehr, began an investigation of the mental
habits and methods of work of different mathematicians.
I had finished the main outlines of this article when the
results of that inquiry were published, so I have hardly
been able to utilize them and shall confine myself to saying
that the majority of witnesses confirm my conclusions; I
do not say all, for when the appeal is to universal suffrage
unanimity is not to be hoped.

A first fact should surprise us, or rather would surprise
us if we were not so used to it. How does it happen there
are people who do not understand mathematics ? If mathe-
matics invokes only the rules of logic, such as are accepted
by all normal minds; if its evidence is based on principles
common to all men, and that none could deny without

1 Translated from the French by George Bruce Halsted.

322 THE MONIST.

being mad, how does it come about that so many persons
are here refractory?

That not every one can invent is nowise mysterious.
That not every one can retain a demonstration once learned
may also pass. But that not every one can understand
mathematical reasoning when explained appears very sur-
prising when we think of it. And yet those who can fol-
low this reasoning only with difficulty are in the majority :
that is undeniable, and will surely not be gainsaid by the
experience of secondary school teachers.

And further: how is error possible in mathematics?
A sane mind should not be guilty of a logical fallacy, and
yet there are very fine minds who do not trip in brief rea-
soning such as occurs in the ordinary doings of life, and
who are incapable of following or repeating without error
the mathematical demonstrations which are longer, but
which after all are only an accumulation of brief reason-
ings wholly analogous to those they make so easily. Need
we add that mathematicians themselves are not infallible?

The answer seems to me evident. Imagine a long series
of syllogisms, and that the conclusions of the first serve
as premises of the following: we shall be able to catch each
of these syllogisms, and it is not in passing from premises
to conclusion that we are in danger of deceiving ourselves.
But between the moment in which we first meet a proposi-
tion as conclusion of one syllogism, and that in which we
reencounter it as premise of another syllogism occasionally
some time will elapse, several links of the chain will have
unrolled; so it may happen that we have forgotten it, or
worse, that we have forgotten its meaning. So it may
happen that we replace it by a slightly different proposition,
or that, while retaining the same enunciation, we attribute
to it a slightly different meaning, and thus it is that we
are exposed to error.

Often the mathematician uses a rule. Naturally he

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 323

begins by demonstrating this rule; and at the time when
this proof is fresh in his memory he understands perfectly
its meaning and its bearing, and he is in no danger of
changing it. But subsequently he trusts his memory and
afterwards only applies it in a mechanical way; and then
if his memory fails him, he may apply it all wrong. Thus
it is, to take a simple example, that we sometimes make
slips in calculation because we have forgotten our multi-
plication table.

According to this, the special aptitude for mathematics
would be due only to a very sure memory or to a prodigious
force of attention. It would be a power like that of the
whist player who remembers the cards played; or, to go
up a step, like that of the chess-player who can visualize
a great number of combinations and hold them in his mem-
ory. Every good mathematician ought to be a good chess-
player, and inversely; likewise he should be a good com-
puter. Of course that sometimes happens; thus Gauss
was at the same time a geometer of genius and a very
precocious and accurate computer.

But there are exceptions, or rather I err, I cannot
call them exceptions without the exceptions being more
than the rule. Gauss it is, on the contrary, who was
an exception. As for myself, I must confess, I am ab-
solutely incapable even of adding without mistakes. In
the same way I should be but a poor chess-player; I
would perceive that by a certain play I should expose
myself to a certain danger ; I would pass in review several
other plays rejecting them for other reasons, and then
finally I should make the move first examined, having
meantime forgotten the danger I had foreseen.

In a word, my memory is not bad, but it would be in-
sufficient to make me a good chess-player. Why then
does it not fail me in a difficult piece of mathematical rea-
soning where most chess-players would lose themselves?

324 THE MONIST.

Evidently because it is guided by the general march of the
reasoning. A mathematical demonstration is not a simple
juxtaposition of syllogisms, it is syllogisms placed in a
certain order, and the order in which these elements are
placed is much more important than the elements them-
selves. If I have the feeling, the intuition, so to speak,
of this order, so as to perceive at a glance the reasoning as
a whole, I need no longer fear lest I forget one of the ele-
ments, for each of them will take its allotted place in the
array, and that without any effort of memory on my part.

It seems to me then, in repeating a reasoning learned,
that I could have invented it. This is often only an illu-
sion ; but even then, even if I am not so gifted as to create
it by myself, I myself re-invent it in so far as I repeat it.

We know that this feeling, this intuition of mathemat-
ical order, that makes us divine hidden harmonies and
relations, cannot be possessed by every one. Some will not
have either this delicate feeling so difficult to define, or a
strength of memory and attention beyond the ordinary, and
then they will be absolutely incapable of understanding
higher mathematics. Such are the majority. Others will
have this feeling only in a slight degree, but they will be
gifted with an uncommon memory and a great power of
attention. They will learn by heart the details one after
another ; they can understand mathematics and sometimes
make applications, but they cannot create. Others, finally,
will possess in a less or greater degree the special intuition
referred to, and then not only can they understand mathe-
matics even if their memory is nothing extraordinary, but
they may become creators and try to invent with more or
less success according as this intuition is more or less de-
veloped in them.

In fact what is mathematical creation ? It does not con-
sist in making new combinations with mathematical enti-
ties already known. Any one could do that, but the com-

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 325

binations so made would be infinite in number and most of
them absolutely without interest. To create consists pre-
cisely in not making useless combinations and in making
those which are useful and which are only a small minority.
Invention is discernment, choice.

How to make this choice I have before explained; the
mathematical facts worthy of being studied are those
which, by their analogy with other facts, are capable of
leading us to the knowledge of a mathematical law just
as experimental facts lead us to the knowledge of a phys-
ical law. They are those which reveal to us unsuspected
kinship between other facts, long known, but wrongly be-
lieved to be strangers to one another.

Among chosen combinations the most fertile will often
be those formed of elements drawn from domains which
are far apart. Not that I mean as sufficing for invention
the bringing together of objects as disparate as possible;
most combinations so formed would be entirely sterile. But
certain among them, very rare, are the most fruitful of all.

To invent, I have said, is to choose; but the word is
perhaps not wholly exact. It makes one think of a pur-
chaser before whom are displayed a large number of sam-
ples, and who examines them, one after the other to make
a choice. Here the samples would be so numerous that
a whole lifetime would not suffice to examine them. This
is not the actual state of things. The sterile combinations
do not even present themselves to the mind of the inventor.
Never in the field of his consciousness do combinations ap-
pear that are not really useful, except some that he rejects
but which have to some extent the characteristics of useful
combinations. All goes on as if the inventor were an exam-
iner for the second degree who would only have to question
the candidates who had passed a previous examination.

But what I have hitherto said is what may be observed

326 THE MONIST.

or inferred in reading the writings of the geometers, read-
ing reflectively.

It is time to penetrate deeper and to see what goes on
in the very soul of the mathematician. For this. I believe,
I can do best by recalling memories of my own. But I shall
limit myself to telling how I wrote my first memoir on
Fuchsian functions. I beg the reader's pardon; I am
about to use some technical expressions, but they need not
frighten him, for he is not obliged to understand them. I
shall say, for example, that I have found the demonstra-
tion of such a theorem under such circumstances. This
theorem will have a barbarous name, unfamiliar to many,
but that is unimportant; what is of interest for the psy-
chologist is not the theorem but the circumstances.

For fifteen days I strove to prove that there could not
be any functions like those I have since called Fuchsian
functions. I was then very ignorant; every day I seated
myself at my work table, stayed an hour or two, tried a
great number of combinations and reached no result. One
evening, contrary to my custom, I drank black coffee and
could not sleep. Ideas rose in crowds; I felt them collide
until pairs interlocked, so to speak, making a stable com-
bination. By the next morning I had established the ex-
istence of a class of Fuchsian functions, those which come
from the hypergeometric series ; I had only to write out the
results, which took but a few hours.

Then I wanted to represent these functions by the quo-
tient of two series; this idea was perfectly conscious and
deliberate, the analogy with elliptic functions guided me.
I asked myself what properties these series must have if
they existed, and I succeeded without difficulty in form-
ing the series I have called theta-Fuchsian.

Just at this time I left Caen, where I was then living,
to go on a geologic excursion under the auspices of the
School of Mines. The changes of travel made me forget

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 327

my mathematical work. Having reached Coutances we
entered an omnibus to go some place or other. At the
moment when I put my foot on the step the idea came to
me without anything in my former thoughts seeming to
have paved the way for it, that the transformations I had
used to define the Fuchsian functions were identical with
those of non-Euclidean geometry. I did not verify the
idea ; I should not have had time, as, upon taking my seat
in the omnibus, I went on with a conversation already
commenced, but I felt a perfect certainty. On my return
to Caen, for conscience' sake I verified the result at my
leisure.

Then I turned my attention to the study of some arith-
metical questions apparently without much success and
without a suspicion of any connection with my preceding
researches. Disgusted with my failure, I went to spend
a few da)fe at the seaside, and thought of something else.
One morning, walking on the bluff, the idea came to me,
with just the same characteristics of brevity, suddenness,
and immediate certainty, that the arithmetic transforma-
tions of indeterminate ternary quadratic forms were iden-
tical with those of non-Euclidean geometry.

Returned to Caen, I meditated on this result and de-
duced the consequences. The example of quadratic forms
showed me that there were Fuchsian groups other than
those corresponding to the hypergeometric series; I saw
that I could apply to them the theory of theta-Fuchsian
series and that consequently there existed Fuchsian func-
tions other than those from the hypergeometric series, the
only ones I then knew. Naturally I set myself to form all
these functions. I made a systematic attack upon them
and carried all the outworks, one after another. There was
one however that still held out, whose fall would involve
that of the whole place. But all my efforts only served

328 THE MONIST.

at first the better to show me the difficulty, which indeed
was something. All this work was perfectly conscious.

Thereupon I left for Mont-Valerien where I was to go
through my military service; so I was very differently
occupied. One day, going along the street, the solution
of the difficulty which had stopped me, suddenly appeared
to me. I did not try to go deep into it immediately, and
only after my service did I again take up the question.
I had all the elements and had only to arrange them and
put them together. So I wrote out my final memoir at a
single stroke and without difficulty.

I shall limit myself to this single example ; it is useless
to multiply them. In regard to my other researches I
would have to say analogous things, and the observations
of other mathematicians given in L' enseignement mathe-
matique would only confirm them.

Most striking at first is this appearance of sudden illu-
mination, a manifest sign of long, unconscious prior work.
The role of this unconscious work in mathematical inven-
tion appears to me incontestable, and traces of it would be
found in other cases where it is less evident. Often when
one works at a hard question, nothing good is accomplished
at the first attack. Then one takes a rest, longer or shorter,
and sits down anew to the work. During the first half-
hour, as before, nothing is found, and then all of a sudden
the decisive idea presents itself to the mind. It might be
said that the conscious work has been more fruitful be-
cause it has been interrupted and the rest has given back
to the mind its force and freshness. But it is more prob-
able that this rest has been filled out with unconscious
work and that the result of this work has afterward re-
vealed itself to the geometer just as in the cases I have
cited; only the revelation instead of coming during a
walk or a journey, has happened during a period of con-
scious work, but independently of this work which plays

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 329

at most a role of excitant, as if it were the goad stimu-
lating the results already reached during rest, but remain-
ing unconscious, to assume the conscious form.

There is another remark to be made about the condi-
tions of this unconscious work : it is possible, and of a cer-
tainty it is only fruitful, if it is on the one hand preceded
and on the other hand followed by a period of conscious
work. These sudden inspirations (and the examples al-
ready cited sufficiently prove this) never happen except
after some days of voluntary effort which has appeared
absolutely fruitless and whence nothing good seems to have
come, where the way taken seems totally astray. These
efforts then have not been as sterile as one thinks; they
have set agoing the unconscious machine, and without
them it would not have moved and would have produced
nothing.

The need for the second period of conscious work, after
the inspiration, is still easier to understand. It is neces-
sary to put in shape the results of this inspiration, to de-
duce from them the immediate consequences, to arrange
them, to word the demonstrations, but above all is veri-
fication necessary. I have spoken of the feeling of absolute
certitude accompanying the inspiration; in the cases cited
this feeling was no deceiver, nor is it usually. But do not
think this a rule without exception; often this feeling de-
ceives us without being any the less vivid, and we only
find it out when we seek to put on foot the demonstration.
I have especially noticed this fact in regard to ideas coming
to me in the morning or evening in bed while in a semi-
hypnagogic state.

Such are the realities ; now for the thoughts they force
upon us. The unconscious, or, as we say, the subliminal
self plays an important role in mathematical creation ; this
follows from what we have said. But usually the sub-
liminal self is considered as purely automatic. Now we

33O THE MONIST.

have seen that mathematical work is not simply mechan-
ical, that it could not be done by a machine however perfect.
It is not merely a question of applying rules, of making
the most combinations possible according to certain fixed
laws. The combinations so obtained would be exceedingly
numerous, useless, and cumbersome. The true work of the
inventor consists in choosing among these combinations
so as to eliminate the useless ones or rather to avoid the
trouble of making them, and the rules which must guide
this choice are extremely fine and delicate. It is almost
impossible to state them precisely ; they are felt rather than
formulated. Under these conditions, how imagine a sieve
capable of applying them mechanically?

A first hypothesis now presents itself: the subliminal
self is in no way inferior to the conscious self; it is not
purely automatic ; it is capable of discernment ; it has tact,
delicacy; it knows how to choose, to divine. What do I
say? It knows better how to divine than the conscious
self, since it succeeds where that has failed. In a word,
is not the subliminal self superior to the conscious self?
You recognize the full importance of this question.
Boutroux, in a recent lecture, has shown how it came up
on a very different occasion, and what consequences would
follow an affirmative answer. (See also, by the same
author, Science et Religion, pp. 3 1 3 ff . )

Is this affirmative answer forced upon us by the facts
I have just given? I confess that, for my part, I should
hate to accept it. Reexamine the facts then and see if they
are not compatible with another explanation.

It is certain that the combinations which present them-
selves to the mind in a sort of sudden illumination, after
an unconscious working somewhat prolonged, are gen-
erally useful and fertile combinations, which seem the
result of a first impression. Does it follow that the sub-
liminal self, having divined by a delicate intuition that

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 33!

these combinations would be useful, has formed only these,
or has it rather formed many others which were lacking
in interest and have remained unconscious?

In this second way of looking at it, all the combinations
would be formed in consequence of the automatism of the
subliminal self, but only the interesting ones would break
into the domain of consciousness. And this is still very
mysterious. What is the cause that, among the thousand
products of our unconscious activity, some are called to
pass the threshold, while others remain below? Is it a
simple chance which confers this privilege? Evidently
not ; among all the stimuli of our senses, for example, only
the most intense fix our attention, unless it has been drawn
to them by other causes. More generally, the privileged
unconscious phenomena, those susceptible of becoming con-
scious, are those which, directly or indirectly, affect most
profoundly our emotional sensibility.

It may be surprising to see emotional sensibility invoked
a propos of mathematical demonstrations which, it would
seem, can interest only the intellect. This would be to
forget the feeling of mathematical beauty, of the harmony
of numbers and forms, of geometric elegance. This is a
true esthetic feeling that all real mathematicians know,
and surely it belongs to emotional sensibility.

Now, what are the mathematic entities to which we
attribute this character of beauty and elegance, and which
are capable of developing in us a sort of esthetic emotion?
They are those whose elements are harmoniously disposed
so that the mind without effort can embrace their totality
while realizing the details. This harmony is at once a
satisfaction of our esthetic needs and an aid to the mind,
sustaining and guiding. And at the same time, in putting
under our eyes a well-ordered whole, it makes us foresee
a mathematical law. Now, as we have said above, the
only mathematical facts worthy of fixing our attention and

332 THE MONIST.

capable of being useful, are those which can teach us a
mathematical law. So that we reach the following con-
clusion: The useful combinations are precisely the most
beautiful, I mean those best able to charm this special sensi-
bility that all mathematicians know, but of which the pro-
fane are so ignorant as often to be tempted to smile at it.

What happens then? Among the great numbers of
combinations blindly formed by the subliminal self, almost
all are without interest and without utility ; but just for that
reason they are also without effect upon the esthetic sensi-
bility. Consciousness will never know them; only certain
ones are harmonious, and consequently, at once useful and
beautiful. They will be capable of touching this special
sensibility of the geometer, of which I have just spoken,
and which, once aroused, will call our attention to them,
and thus give them occasion to become conscious.

This is only a hypothesis, and yet here is an observa-
tion which may confirm it: when a sudden illumination
seizes upon the mind of the mathematician, it usually hap-
pens that it does not deceive him, but it also sometimes
happens, as I have said, that it does not stand the test of
verification; well, we almost always notice that this false
idea, had it been true, would have gratified our natural
feeling for mathematical elegance.

Thus it is this special esthetic sensibility, which plays
the role of the delicate sieve of which I spoke, and that
sufficiently explains why the one lacking it will never be a
real creator.

Yet all the difficulties have not disappeared. The con-
scious self is narrowly limited, and as for the subliminal
self we know not its limitations, and this is why we are
not too reluctant in supposing that it has been able in a
short time to make more different combinations than the
whole life of a conscious being could encompass. Yet
these limitations exist. Is it likely that it is able to form

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 333

all the possible combinations, whose number would frighten
the imagination ? Nevertheless that would seem necessary,
because if it produces only a small part of these combina-
tions, and if it makes them at random, there would be small
chance that the good, the one we should choose, would be
found among them.

Perhaps we ought to seek the explanation in that pre-
liminary period of conscious work which always precedes
all fruitful unconscious labor. Permit me a rough com-
parison. Figure the future elements of our combinations
as something like the hooked atoms of Epicurus. During
the complete repose of the mind, these atoms are motion-
less, they are, so to speak, hooked to the wall ; so this com-
plete rest may be indefinitely prolonged without the atoms
meeting, and consequently without any combination be-
tween them.

On the other hand, during a period of apparent rest
and unconscious work, certain of them are detached from
the wall and put in motion. They flash in every direction
through the space (I was about to say the room) where
they are enclosed, as would, for example, a swarm of gnats
or, if you prefer a more learned comparison, like the mole-
cules of gas in the kinematic theory of gases. Then their
mutual impacts may produce new combinations.

What is the role of the preliminary conscious work?
It is evidently to mobilize certain of these atoms, to unhook
them from the wall and put them in swing. We think
we have done no good, because we have moved these ele-
ments a thousand different ways in seeking to assemble
them and have found no satisfactory aggregate. But, after
this shaking up imposed upon them by our will, these
atoms do not return to their primitive rest. They freely
continue their dance.

Now, our will did not choose them at random; it pur-
sued a perfectly determined aim. The mobilized atoms are

334 THE MONIST.

therefore not any atoms whatsoever; they are those from
which we might reasonably expect the desired solution.
Then the mobilized atoms undergo impacts which make
them enter into combination among themselves or with
other atoms at rest which they struck against in their
course. Again, I beg pardon, my comparison is very
rough, but I scarcely know how otherwise to make my
thought understood.

However it may be, the only combinations that have a
chance of forming are those where at least one of the ele-
ments is one of those atoms freely chosen by our will.
Now, it is evidently among these that is found what I
called the good combination. Perhaps this is a way of
lessening the paradoxical in the original hypothesis.

Another observation. It never happens that the uncon-
scious work gives us the result of a somewhat long calcu-
lation all made, where we have only to apply fixed rules.
We might think the wholly automatic subliminal self par-
ticularly apt for this sort of work, which is in a way ex-
clusively mechanical. It seems that thinking in the even-
ing upon the factors of a multiplication, we might hope
to find the product ready made upon our awakening, or
again that an algebraic calculation, for example a veri-
fication, would be made unconsciously. Nothing of the
sort, as observation proves. All one may hope from these
inspirations, fruits of unconscious work, is a point of de-
parture for such calculations. As for the calculations
themselves, they must be made in the second period of con-
scious work, that which follows the inspiration, that in
which one verifies the results of this inspiration, and de-
duces their consequences. The rules of these calculations
are strict and complicated. They require discipline, atten-
tion, will, and therefore consciousness. In the subliminal
self, on the contrary, reigns what I should call liberty, if
we might give this name to the simple absence of discipline

MATHEMATICAL CREATION. 335

and to the disorder born of chance. Only, this disorder
itself permits unexpected combinations.

I shall make a last remark : when above I made certain
personal observations, I spoke of a night of excitement
when I worked in spite of myself. Such cases are frequent,
and it is not necessary that the abnormal cerebral activity
be caused by a physical excitant as in that I mentioned. It
seems in such cases, that one is present at his own uncon-
scious work, made partially perceptible to the over-excited
consciousness, yet without having changed its nature. Then
we vaguely comprehend what distinguishes the two mech-
anisms or, if you wish, the working methods of the two
egos. And the psychologic observations I have been able
thus to make seem to me to confirm in their general out-
lines the views I have given.

Surely they have need of it, for they are and remain
in spite of all very hypothetical : the interest of the question
is so great that I do not repent of having submitted them
to the reader.

HENRI POINCARE.

PARIS, FRANCE.

A CONTRIBUTION TO THE HISTORY OF THE
WORD PERSON.

A POSTHUMOUS TREATISE BY ADOLF TRENDELENBURG*

INTRODUCTION BY RUDOLF EUCKEN.

Trendelenburg's busy life in a great city and his many avocations pre-
vented the completing of several large works he had planned. Had he been
able to finish the Ethics and Psychology upon which he was engaged, our com-
prehension of his scientific method would have been enriched by many impor-
tant touches. But a strict injunction not to publish any unfinished work made
it impossible to fill up the gaps from his posthumous writings.

A paper was found, however, that could not be considered unfinished, and
the author would certainly have published it himself in a collection of minor
articles, had he found an opportunity for such a compilation. It is an essay
dated January 20, 1870, entitled "A Contribution to the History of the Word
Person."

This work, to be sure, is now exactly forty years old, but in spite of its
small compass it may be regarded as a valuable expression of the individuality
of this thinker and investigator, whose life-work retains its significance not-
withstanding the fact that time has opened other paths since then. Here
Trendelenburg's friendly relation to history, his eagerness to bring historical
periods into close relationship and to let present conditions develop as much
as possible from the past, are clearly shown in this treatise. One is equally
impressed by the artistic charm of his presentation with its simple grace, as
well as by the breadth of view, the balanced interest, the thought and care
bestowed upon the work.

Trendelenburg's close attachment to the old philosophy did not permit him
a near relationship to Kant, nor even a full appreciation of the revolutionary
service Kant had performed. That he prized him very highly, nevertheless, is
fully evident from this brief essay, for its whole trend of development is
toward Kant, as its goal. Here we may see how Trendelenburg was prepared
so very effectively by his historical labors in most diverse fields to deepen the
concept of personality. In this way the whole leads up to the chief ethical con-
cepts of Kant.

KANT has redefined the concept of person in its rela-
tion to morals. A good part of his ethical doctrine
is contained in the sentence, "Man is a person." As an

* Translated from the German by Carl H. Haessler. — This essay, written
in 1870, was not published until 1908, when it appeared as a posthumous paper
in the Kant-Studien. We wish to thank Prof. Rudolf Eucken, of Jena, who

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 337

antithesis to the concept of thing, Kant says in his Grund-
legung der Metaphysik der Sitten1 (1785) [Foundation
of Metaphysical Ethics], "Rational beings are called per-
sons because their nature distinguishes them as an end
unto themselves; that is, as something that may not be
used simply as a means, and consequently in so far limits
all caprice and is an object of esteem." Since the rational
nature exists as an end unto itself and not simply as a
means to be utilized at the pleasure of this or that will,
the practical commandment, says Kant, should read as fol-
lows: "So act that, in your own person as well as in the
person of every one else, you always employ human nature
never simply as a means but always at the same time as
an end." "Man is, to be sure, sufficiently unholy," says
Kant elsewhere,2 "but human nature in his person must be
holy to him. In the whole creation everything one wishes
and which is under one's control can be employed simply
as a means ; man alone, and with him every rational crea-
ture, is an end unto himself."

If man as a rational being is a person, and as such an
end unto himself, it follows that conforming to a rational
end he is capable of a rational decision, and this is the
essence of his freedom.

Kant therefore attributes freedom and end unto oneself
to person, and in this personality that arouses esteem he
sees the sublimity of human nature.

One of Kant's good services is that he has newly illu-
minated the worth of man (all things have value, a market
price, but man alone has worth). This concept and that
of esteem for man, who is in this sense a person, went hand
in hand and together achieved growing recognition. This

edited the manuscript, and Prof. Hans Vaihinger of Halle, the editor of
Kant-Studien, for their kind permission to publish both the essay of Professor
Trendelenburg and their own comments made in this connection. Professor
Eucken's introduction has been slightly modified to suit the presnt occasion. ED.

1 Page 56.

*Krit. der pr. Vemunft (1788), p. 155.

338 THE MONIST.

service has quietly directed life into better paths, and so
far as its scientific significance is concerned, the concept
has found its way even into theological ethics as, for in-
stance, in Nitsch'sa system of Christian doctrine.

In the above sense, the concept of person or personality
in man expresses for us the source and substance of his
moral being. We would be at a loss to translate this con-
cept back into Greek, the noble mother of our scientific
ethical terms. Plato and Aristotle have no adequate ex-
pression for it. They talked about the man, not the person,
when they wished to designate what was peculiar to man.
A concept like that of Kant cannot develop where there
are slaves, at any rate not out of the general moral con-
sciousness. It denotes progress in scientific concepts when
a later period is able to define such a concept as person.

In order to define our subject we ask how can "person",
persona, that is, the mask held before the face to indicate
the role assumed, become the expression of the inmost
moral essence, the expression of that which is most char-
acteristic in man? Scientific terms, for instance like sub-
jective and objective, a priori and a posteriori, moral cer-
tainty in contradistinction to mathematical certainty, the
ideal and the concrete, not infrequently have their history.
It is my desire to make a contribution to the history of the
word "person" within the scope of the question just raised :
how did persona, the mask of which the fox in Phaedrus
says, "What a mighty figure! but brain it has none"
(i, 7,) how came it, in the progress of usage, to mean
personality in the Kantian terminology?

ii.

In discussing the history of a word one thinks in the
first place of its pedigree. However, the etymology of the
word persona has not been definitely settled to this day.

• Karl Immanuel Nitsch, a German theologian, 1787-1868.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 339

There is a well-known passage in Gelliusb V, 7, which
reads :

Lepide mehercules et scite Gabius Bassus in libris, quos de ori-
gine vocabulorum composuit, unde appellata persona sit, interpre-
tatur ; a personando enim id vocabulum factum esse coniectat ; "Nam
caput," inquit, "et os cooperimento personae tectum undique, unaque
tantum vocis emittendae via pervicem, quoniam non vaga neque
diffusa est, in unum tantummodo exitum collectam coactamque vocem
ciet et magis claros canorosque sonitus facit. Quoniam igitur indu-
mentum illud oris clarescere et resonate vocem facit, ob earn causam
persona dicta est, o littera propter vocabuli formam productiore."

[Neatly and cleverly, by Hercules, does Gabius Bassus expound
whence persona is derived, in books he has written on the origin of
substantives. For he conjectures this substantive to have been made
from personando (sounding through). He says, "By means of a
mask covering the head and face on every side, the voice issues,
strengthened and reinforced without being scattered or dissipated,
through a single opening, and becomes clearer and more melodious.
Since, then, this mask makes the voice resound clearly, it is called
persona for that reason, the letter o being lengthened on account of
the form of the substantive."]

According to this, persona, the mask, obtains its name
from its property of concentrating the voice and letting the
sound come out stronger and clearer. Apart from the con-
tradictory quantity (persono and persona), this would de-
rive the name from an attribute instead of from the essen-
tial nature of the mask, viz., its characteristic facial fea-
tures.

J. C. Scaligerc questions this origin, but the derivation
he suggests, peri so ma* [around the body] or peri zoma\
[around the waist], is still further from the mark.

An ancient vocabulary brings a deeper meaning into

b Aulus Gellius, a Roman who died about 180 A. D., is known for his
Noctes Atticae [Attic Nights] a book into which he put everything interesting
he had heard or read.

'Julius Caesar Scaliger (1484-1558) was a famous Italian scholar, very
much at home in the classics, and a leader of science in his time.

* irepl crufta.

34-O THE MONIST.

the word, explaining persona as per se una [one in or of
itself].

The latest derivation I have seen gives a still deeper
meaning. Since ona in Latin words signifies fullness
(which may be true, as in annona [the yearly yield], Pom-
ona [the goddess of orchards], Bellona [the goddess of
war]), then persona, that is per se ona means fullness in
or of itself, just as the person of Christ is regarded as the
pleroma, the fullness or fulfilment.

In his academic treatise of i8583 Jacob Grimm is not
indisposed to classify persona in the group of masculine
name-words represented by feminine nouns. He accepts
the derivation from personare in so far as the change
of quantity, which also occurs elsewhere, does not disturb
him; but he explains the sense in a different way. The
meaning does not come from a mask that heightens the
sound of the voice, but persona might in itself indicate the
speaker who gives sound to his speech, in the same way
that vocula, used as an epithet, signifies one speaking softly,
although in itself it is nothing but parva vox [little voice].
This etymology is very circuitous and hardly agrees with
the customary usage of personare.

In our perplexity we are almost driven to another deri-
vation suggested by Forcellini.d If the mask came from
Greece to Rome along with the theater, it is possible that
the word prosopont [face] or prosopeion** [mask], as a
foreign word, underwent a violent transformation, some-
what as the foreign plant name hyoskyamos^ became
iusquiamus [henbane, an herb] and the analogy becomes

* Denkschriften, 1858, Ueber die Vertretung mdnnlicher durch weibliche
Namensformen [On the Representation of Masculine Substantives by Fem-
inines], p. 49.

d 1688-1768. An Italian philologist.

** irpoffwireiov.

f f vovKvafJios.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 34!

closer when we assume (with Schwencke)6 that prosopon
or prosopeion was transformed into persona, so that per-
sona might stand for prosopina by the reverse of the pro-
cess through which Persephone became Proserpina [queen
of the lower world] .

In this wealth of doubtful and uncertain conjectures,
we may see that the family relationship of persona has
not yet been discovered. Accordingly we shall return to
the meaning which alone concerns our present purpose.

in.

In Luther's translation of the Bible, the word "person"
has several meanings. In telling the story of a betrayal,
Luther translates 2 Mace. xii. 4: Sie ersduften sie alle an
die zweihundert Person^ [They drowned them all to the
number of two hundred persons]. He renders Luke xix.
3, where Zacchaeus had climbed a mulberry tree in his
desire to see Jesus : Denn er war klein von Person [Because
he was small in person]. In the first passage, the Greek
text and the Vulgate have only the numeral, and Luther,
it seems, selected "persons" to include both men and
women. In the second passage, the Greek describes Zac-
chaeus as helikiai michros* the Latin says, quia statura
pusillus erat. In the usage, Er war klein von Person, the
outer appearance is an essential idea, as is the case with
the mask, but it is here regarded as the appearance of the
whole body.

Other constructions are more germane to our subject.
Even in the Old Testament recurs the expression, ohne
Ansehen der Person [without respect of person] . In Deut.
x. 17, we read: "God, a mighty and a terrible, which re-
gardeth not persons, nor taketh reward ;" in 2 Chron. xix.

• 1853- A German philologist

$$ Hirschberg's edition has : ersaufeten sie sie alle, in die zweihundert Per-
son en.

342 THE MONIST.

7: "For there is no iniquity with the Lord our God, nor
respect of persons"; Job. xxxiv. 19, "That accepteth not
the persons of princes." The Hebrew expression has more
meaning. "To accept the countenance," basha' panim.^
can only mean to accept another's look, that is, to be well
disposed toward him. When the Septuagint renders this
phrase thaumasai prosopon^. (2 Chron. xix. 7; cf. Deut.
x. 17 and Job xxxiv. 19), it is a question whether "to ad-
mire a countenance" should be understood literally or
whether the usage of prosopon had already assumed the
conception we find it to have in Polybius for instance,
namely, the conception of the role one plays in life. The
Vulgate translates Deut. x. 17: Deus qui personam non ac-
cipit [God that accepteth not the person] ; 2 Chron. xix. 7,
personarum acceptio [acceptance of persons] ; Job xxxiv.
19, "qui non accipit personas principum" [that accepteth
not the persons of princes]. Prosopon, which does not yet
signify the person before the court in Attic Greek, has
become persona in the legal sense in this translation, and
hence Luther's ohne Ansehen der Person. The accipere
personam [to accept the person] explains itself in such
terms as persona accepta and persona grata.

In prosopon as a mask, is always implied the carrying
out of a role, the assuming of a character. New Testa-
ment expressions, reminding one of those just quoted from
the Old Testament, are in still closer accord with this
meaning. In Acts x. 34, 35, after the conversion of the
Roman centurion Cornelius, Peter exclaims: "Of a truth
I perceive that God is no respecter of persons : But in every
nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness is
accepted with him." Similarly, in Rom. ii. 10, n, the
apostle Paul writes, "Glory, honor, and peace, to every
man that worketh good, to the Jew first, and also to the

irp6tr<airov.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 343

Gentile: For there is no respect of persons with God."
(Cf. also Gal. ii. 6). The Greek expressions are,

OVK COTI Trpo(ra)iro\.TJ7m)<; o #609 (Acts X. 34) >

irpo(TO)Tro\rj\lfLa ( Rom. ii. 1 1 ) ;

TTpQCTtoMTOV O $€OS avdpamOV OV Xa/A/8(M>€l (Gal. U. 6),

which corresponds to the rendering of Lev. xix. 15, in the
Septuagint :

ov Xryi/nj Trp6<ra)7rov TTTW^OI) ou8e /u/q 0av/xacnjs 7rpo<ro>7roi>
Svi/aoTov.

[Thou shalt not respect the person of the poor, nor honor the
person of the mighty.]

The Vulgate translates by personarum acceptio (Acts
x. 34 ; Rom. ii. 1 1 ) and Deus personam hominis non accipit
(Gal. ii. 6). Whereas the legal usage of person is clearly
apparent in this Latin translation, the Greek prosopon still
has the particular conception in mind as represented by
the mask, the sense being that in Christendom no respect
for the person, that is for racial features, Jewish or Greek,
circumcised or uncircumcised, would obtain.

In the expression, "without respect of person," there
enters into the language the notion of a privilege to which
some persons lay claim on some particular ground (for
instance, superiority of race) as against the universal. In
Latin, this conception of the particular is easily recognized
when, for example, Cicero says in a letter to Pompey (ad.
Att., VIII, i iD) on the connection between the party which
he had joined and the role he had played:

Ut mea persona semper ad improborum civium impetus aliquid
videretur habere populare.

[So that my role seemed always to have something in it, in-
viting the attacks of the wicked.]

IV.

The conception of persona as a part played becomes
still more probable when we see prosopon become persona

344 THE MONIST.

in the ethical sense among the Stoics whose concern in
life was harmony with oneself, and consistent character.
The Stoics are fond of comparisons and carry them even
into their doctrines.

Thus we read in the brief ethics of Epictetus (Enchei-
ridion, ch. 17) :

Consider that you are the interpreter (WoK/omjs) of a role whose
character is determined by the Master (StSao-KoXos) ; if he wants a
short role, short it is; if long, long; if he wants you to portray a
poor man, see to it that you play the poor man with spirit; in the
same manner when your part is that of a lame man, of a magistrate,
or of an ordinary man. For to play well the assigned role (TTPOO-WTTOV)
is your business, but to choose the role, the business of another.

In the same sense, chapter 37 has it:

If you take upon yourself a role beyond your power, you will
play it poorly and awkwardly, and neglect another which you might
have filled acceptably.

In his Dissertations Epictetus bids us, in the same
sense, to learn the role assigned or assumed, to know what
we wish to be, and not to forget our particular role. In
the Dissertations I, 2, 12, we read:

When Florus asked Agrippinus for advice as to whether he
should go to Nero's spectacle and accept a position there, Agrip-
pinus answered, "Go ahead" ; and when Florus inquired further why
he did not go himself, Agrippinus replied, "I would not consider
it for a moment, for whoever once looks upon such things, who
examines into and estimates the value of externals, is not greatly
unlike those who have forgotten their own roles."

So, according to Stoic doctrine (Diog. Laert. VIII,
§ 1 60) the wise man will be like a good histrionic artist,
hypokrites**

These thoughts are not peculiar to the doctrine of
Epictetus, the Stoic of Nero's time, but belong to the oldest
of the Greek Stoics. At any rate we have a fragment of

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 345

Teles, probably a contemporary of Chrysippus,f similar in
tone to the sayings of Epictetus, with this difference, that
Tyche (Fortune) and not God in his providence composes
the parts. The use of persona in this ethical sense of an
assigned or assumed role is familiar to Cicero, for example
in De officiis, I, 28 and 31.

In this interpretation we can easily recognize the essen-
tial feature of Stoic ethics. The well written role is in
accordance with nature, as demanded by the first proposi-
tion of the Stoics, to live in accordance with nature; that
is, to follow the dictates of reason which is the fundamental
element of nature. The well written part, furthermore,
particularizes the universal in accordance with the nature
peculiar to each individual and grounds it in a rational
mean.

In this way the aim of the Stoics is realized. The uni-
versal law of nature works in agreement with the indi-
vidual will. For everything is as it should be and the
course of life is beautiful when the will of the universal dis-
poser and the daemons of the individual are in harmony.
Inasmuch as the role is subordinated to the drama as a
whole, but has its being nevertheless in the particular part, it
is an artistic way of stating the Stoic doctrine. Moreover,
the well written part is true to itself like the vita sibi con-
cors [life consistent with itself] to which Seneca directs
us. Accordingly, the wise man, who ought to resemble
a good histrionic artist, must not only write the part him-
self but must also interpret it.

We have here, it is true, an ethical significance for
persona, of characteristic stamp, but not the significance
that expresses, as in our day, the essential principle of in-
dividual morality. In the German we still find traces of
persona as mask or role; for example in the connection,

* Died 208 B. C, a Stoic philosopher of great ingenuity in verbal subtleties.
'In Greek thought, the spirit attending a man from birth to death. Cf.
Roman genius.

346 THE MONIST.

er hat seine Person gut gespielt, gut vorgestellt [He played
or portrayed his part well].

The same term, a git personam [he plays a part] said
of an actor on the stage, is a legal expression, when agere
apud iudicem [to plead before the court], actio [suit] is
used of the complaint. The plaintiff (actor) and the de-
fendant, in plea and counter-plea, resemble the masks, the
persons, on the stage. Different roles in this play are
assigned, as it were, to the plaintiff, the defendant and the
judge. And so when the word persona became a legal term
it had a correspondingly definite and physical meaning.
Accordingly, persona is a favorite expression for plain-
tiff and defendant; as for instance in the Institutiones of
Gaius,h IV, § 86:

Qui autem alieno nomine agit intentionem quidem ex persona
domini sumit, condemnationem autem in suam personam convertit.

[But he who pleads in another's name, (as a cognitor [attorney]
or procurator [agent] ) takes the accusation indeed from the person
of his employer, but turns the condemnation on himself.]

In this way, it appears, persona became a strictly legal
term.

Persona, then, indicates those who bear characteristic
legal relations which are to be distinguished, as in the ex-
ample of persona domini, persona procuratoris. Just as
persona in its proper meaning of mask points to a partic-
ular or individual feature which has developed in the uni-
versal human physiognomy, so also the same term indi-
cates, among the rhetoricians for instance, the relation to
be distinguished between individuals:

Ut Hector ad Priamum persona filii est, ad Astyanactem persona

h A. D. 110-180. The most famous authority on Roman Law. His Institu-
tiones was a favorite hand-book of law, and forms the foundation of Justinian's
"Institutes."

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 347

patris, ad Andromachen persona mariti, ad Paridem persona fratris,
ad Sarpedonem amici, ad Achillem inimici.

[Thus Hector stands to Priam in the relation of son, to Astya-
nax of father, to Andromache of husband, to Paris of brother, to
Sarpedon of friend, to Achilles of enemy.]

The relations enumerated here with persona, especially
those of 'kinship, might almost all become particular legal
relations. As a rule one individual bears but one relation
in one and the same legal matter, but it may happen that
he bears several at the same time; for example, when a
consul emancipates his son, the persona patris [paternal
relation] and the persona magistratus [magisterial rela-
tion] by virtue of which he performs the ceremony are
borne by the same man. Hence the expression:

Unus homo plures personas sustinet.
[One man sustains several roles.]

Cicero, De orator., II, 102, says:

Tres personas unus solus sustineo summa animi aequitate, meam,
adversarii, iudicis.

[Three roles do I sustain with the greatest equanimity, my own,
that of my opponent, that of the judge.]

We can see that persona still has much of the original
meaning and that persona and homo are not yet synonym-
ous. In a related sense the term persona can be applied
even to a thing, as an inheritance, as having legal rela-
tions ; cf . Ulpian1 in the title, De dominio acquirendo XLI,
I, 34, hereditas non heredis personam sed defuncti sustinet
[On acquiring right of ownership XLI, I, 34, the inher-
itance sustains the person not of the heir but of the de-
ceased], which is expressed in the Institutes, II, 14, 2, thus :

Nondum enim adita hereditas personae vicem sustinet non

heredis futuris sed defuncti.

[For an inheritance not yet entered upon, sustains the place of
the person of the deceased, not of the future heir.]

1 A, D. 170-228. Next to Papinianus the most famous Roman jurist.

348 THE MONIST.

Roman law goes a step further in the usage of the word
persona. Inasmuch as strictly speaking only human be-
ings and not things can have rights, the result was, that
in legal terminology persona designated the rights of hu-
man beings without distinction. We read for instance in
the Institutes of Gaius, I, § 8:

Omne antem ius quo utimur vel ad personas pertinet vel ad
res vel ad actiones.

[However, every right of which we treat pertains to persons
or to things or to lawsuits.]

And further, § 9 :

Et quidem summa divisio de iure personarum haec est, quod
omnes homines aut liberi sunt aut servi.

[And indeed the highest division of persons in law is this, that
all men are either freemen or slaves.]

Freemen and slaves, otherwise opposed to each other
in legal relations, are all termed personae here. Personae
stand opposed to res, persons in contradistinction to things.
In this significance persona, proceeding from the differential
particulars of human relations, is stripped of all particu-
larity and fades into the conception of man in general.

From this source springs, even if indirectly, the Ger-
man usage of person that we find in Luther's translation
of the Bible, 2 Mace. xii. 4, "Sie ersduften sie alle in die 200
Person" The Latin expresses "no one" by the negative
with homo, ne -f- homo = nemo; the French has it il n'y
a personne. So indefinite has the definitive word persona,
"mask," become. In this direction we have come to be
far removed from Kant's pregnant proposition, "Man is
a person"; for with this meaning the proposition would
be the reverse of pregnant, it would be tautological. Ay,
in this particular the usage has sunk even below the noble
meaning of man, for we ask slightingly, "What does this
person want?" (Was will die Person?)

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 349

VI.

Perhaps one other scientific application of the word had
its part in this process of generalization.

When the Greeks, probably the Stoics who were the
founders of our modern grammar, gave the name prosopon,
countenance or mask, to the significant inflectional ending
that we call the "person" of the verb, they undoubtedly
had the drama in view where persons really move as "I"
and "you."

This relation which has been lost in the technical ex-
pression clearly appears again in a related instance in
Lucian (De calumn. c. 6) :

Tpia>v ftovrwv Trpo&^aiv, KaOdirep €v rats Kco/xwStat?, TOV
SiaySaXXoi/ros KCU TOV 8ta)8aXXo/w,eVov /cat TOV 77730? ov rj Sta-

[There being three persons just as in the comedies, the slan-
derer, the one slandered, and the one who hears the slander.]

The mask with which the conversation opens, usually
the first in order of appearance, is called the first ; the one
adressed, the second. Generally speaking, every conversa-
tion has its inception in the fact that one of two persons
thinks of or desires something, and either imparts his
thought or states his desire to the other. It was proper to
call that person the first person, in whom rests the impulse
and likewise the initiative of the whole conversation.

On this we support a psychological meaning in which
the "I" is called the first person because to every one the
"I" is first and closest. Or we may defend an idealistic
significance in accordance with which the "I" is designated
as the first person because it spontaneously and creatively
brings forth the concept of everything that is "not-I."

If it is probable that the term prosopon for the first
and second person arose from the dialogue in the manner
indicated above, then the one of whom they were talking

35O THE MONIST.

was differentiated from the first and second persons auto-
matically, as it were; and if he entered into the action
he was naturally called the third mask. And indeed the
designation of a thing is also put in the third person, either
because with reference to a thing the verb is expressed in
the third person, or because a pronoun like "it" is referred
to a thing. But it is not hard to explain. When, as in the
third person, the conversation is of a personal subject (he,
she), then this becomes of its own accord a kind of object
with reference to the "I" and "you," and in this respect
there is a certain relationship between the "he" as person
and the "he" as thing, whenever a noun is used in the
masculine gender as in the Continental languages; both
are objects. And vice versa language sometimes repre-
sents things as being alive, especially in those languages
in which masculine and feminine genders are assigned to
words, and thereby a thing is approximately treated as a
person.

The grammatical term prosopon as personal ending is
found as early as in AristarchusJ (under Ptolemy Philo-
metor) and from this it is not unlikely that prosopon as
person in grammar goes back to the birthplace of our
modern grammar, the Stoic school, which also applied
prosopon, the mask, in an ethical sense. The pupil of
Aristarchus was Dionysius Thrax,k and the Greek gram-
mar which has been preserved under his name appears
really to come from him, even if only in an extract.4 It
defines the pro so pa [persons], thus:

*> * » I > * « \ / S ' S > X A l \ /

irpwTov /t>to>, a<p ov o Aoyos, oevrepov oe, 77/309 ov o Aoyos,
rpvrov Se, 7re/ol ov 6 Xoyog.

[The first, by whom the word ; the second, to whom the word ;
the third, of whom the word (is spoken).]

1 About 156 B. C. Famous grammarian and critic of antiquity.
"About 80 B. C. His book T^x»"? TpawumKj became the basis for all
succeeding grammars.

* Joannes Classen, De grammaticae Graecae primordiis, 1829, pp. 18 f., 99.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 35!

We have followed this simple explanation.5
M. Terentius Varro1 who was Cicero's senior by ten
years, is familiar with the grammatical usage of persona
translated from prosopon; with Cicero begins the legal
usage of persona which attributes to it the role of bearing
a particular legal relation. Varro, for instance, has it :

Quom ita personarum natura triplex esset, qui loqueretur, ad
quern, de quo.

[Since, then, the character of the persons is threefold, he who
speaks, is spoken to, is spoken of.]

It is then possible that the grammatical and legal usages
of persona helped each other along in the course of the
generalization in which finally persona and homo became
synonymous.

VII.

It is a fact in the history of the term "person" that an
entire church council was held to investigate and determine
its meaning. This happened at Alexandria in the year
362 in the time of Julian the Apostate. The question at
issue was the orthodox conception of the Trinity.

The Greek church distinguished Father, Son and Holy
Ghost as three hypostases^ of such a character that the
one divine essence (ousia, physis*} pervades all three hypo-
stases. It had raised this doctrine into the Nicene sym-
bolism under Constantine. The Latin fathers, however,
saw in this expression hypostasis, hyphistamenon,^ sub-
sistens, an inadequate term that set up three self-sufficing

' Schomann indicates the relation to the stage in his essay, Die Lehre von
den Redeteilen nach den Allen, 1862, p. 87; cf. also on wpfouwa Classen I, I,
p. 82 ; Steinthal, Geschichte der Spracnwissenschaft bet den Griechen und Ro-
mern tnit besonderer Rucksicht auf die Logik, pp. 624 ; 652 f.

1 B. C. 116-28. Known as the "most learned of the Romans," as he was
the most voluminous.

* del*, <t>fou. The latter term means "nature.

352 THE MONIST.

essences and lost sight of the one divine substance above
them. For them God was only one hypostasis.

The Greek fathers feared that such a conception would
precipitate them into the Sabellian heresy, a doctrine that
regarded Father, Son and Holy Ghost as merely different
manifestations of the supreme entity which revealed itself
in the creation and history of the world, as a triad. In
the Roman church Tertullian had, indeed, written in oppo-
sition to the monarchist Praxeas who wanted to make the
distinction of Father, Son and Holy Ghost not real but
ideal, but Tertullian proposed at the same time to distin-
guish the three:

Personae, non substantiae nomine, ad distinctionem non ad
divisionem.8

[By the name of person, not of substance, for the purpose of
distinguishing not of separating them.]

And so the result was that the bishops of the Roman
church would not accept the expression hypostasis and
those of the Greek church refused the expression prosopon,
persona. In that council, bishops from Italy, Arabia,
Egypt and Lybia met with Athanasius, archbishop of Alex-
andria. Recognizing each other as orthodox in the mat-

* Tertullian, adv. Praxeam c. 12: "Qui si ipse Deus est, secundum Joan-
nem, Deus erat sermo, habes duos, alium dicentem, ut fiat, alium facientem.
Alium autem quomodo accipere debeas iam ^professus sum, personae, non sub-
stantiae, nomine, ad distinctionem, non ad divisionem. Ceterum unique teneam
unam substantiam in tribus cohaerentibus, tamen alium dicam oportet ex
necessitate sensus eum qui iubet et eum qui facit."

[If he is really God, according to John (i. i) the Word was God, you have
two, one saying that it should be performed, the other performing it. But
how you ought to accept the other I have already set forth ; by the name of
person not of substance, to distinguish not to separate them. On the other hand,
although 1 hold that there is one substance in three closely connected forms,
nevertheless I shall say there ought to be another, from the necessities of the
meaning, one who orders and one who performs.]

Augustine, De trinitate,\ll,j: . .."dictum est a nostris Graecis una essen-
tia, tres substantiae; a Latinis autem una essentia vel substantia, tres per-
sonae, quia sicut iam diximus non aliter in sermone nostro id est Latino es-
sentia quam substantia solet intelligi."

[It has been said by our Greek friends that there is one essence and three
substances; by the Latins, however, one essence or substance and three per-
sons, because just as we said, in our tongue, that is, in Latin, essentia is
usually understood no differently than substantia.}

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 353

ter, they declared the controversy over hypostasis and per-
sona as a quibbling about words.

After that, the word persona, or prosopon, became syn-
onymous with hypostasis and idioma\[ character] and legit-
imate in the Christian church. Gregory Nazianzenm (died
390) says, for instance, in one of his sermons (Oratio 39,
p. 630) :

A threefold light flashes upon us at the mention of God, three-
fold with respect to his peculiar characteristics (iSwo/wiTa), hypostases,
or rather persons, one might say ; but one-fold on the contrary when
we regard the substance, that is, the godhead.

In this way they came to a verbal agreement but in
so doing really concealed the differences concerning a sub-
ject not clearly understood.

In the meantime, the characteristic meaning of the
word persona came once more to the surface. Servetus11
used it in his essay De trinitatis erroribus [On the Mistakes
in (the Doctrine of) the Trinity], 1532. He declared the
three persons in the godhead were three functions in the
same sense as three roles and because of this original mean-
ing of persona he died the death of a heretic at the stake
on Calvin's accusation (1553). That the controversy
raged around this first definition of persona is clear, among
other things, from Melanchthon's Loci [Points] . We read
there (ed. 1559, Berlin, 1856, p. 6) :

Lusit homo fanaticus Servetus de vocabulo Personae et disputat
olim Latinis significasse habitum aut officii distinctionem, ut dicimus.
Roscium alias sustinere personam Achillis, alias sustinere personam
Ulissis, seu alia est persona consulis, alia servi, ut Cicero inquit:
magnum est in republica tueri personam principis. Et hanc veterem
signficationem vocabuli sycophantice detorquet ad articulum de tribus
personis divinitatis.

[A fanatical fellow named Servetus has played with the word

"About A. D. 325-390. A learned orthodox ecclesiastical writer.
• ISII-ISS3- He was a physician as well as a polemicist.

354 THE MONIST.

"person" and denies that the old Latin meaning was habit or the
distinction of office, as we say. Roscius sustained now the person
(role) of Achilles, now that of Ulysses; or the person of the consul
is one thing, that of a slave another, as Cicero says : It is important
in a republic to protect the person of the chief executive. And this
old meaning of the substantive he underhandedly distorts to his
statement on the three persons of divinity.]

The ecclesiastical elucidation which Melanchthon also
gives, runs otherwise:

Persona est substantia individua intelligens incommunicabilis
non sustentata in alia natura.

[Person is a rational individual substance, incommunicable, not
sustained in another nature.]

Thus in theology, persona, denoting the mask of the
stage, gains the meaning of an individual, intransmissible
(incommunicable), rational essence which is self-existent.

In this sense the Augsburg Confession of 1530 declares :

Und wird durch das Wort persona verstanden, nit ein Stuck,
nit eygenschafft in einem andern, sondern es selbig bestadt.

[And by the word persona is understood not a part, not a qual-
ity (rooted) in another, but that it exists in itself.]

The word personlich (personal) in this meaning had
already passed into German through such mystics as Mei-
ster Eckhart.0 In God, power, wisdom and love (benevo-
lence) are seen in person and essence, and with this God
man should unite himself. . This idea, since Abelard and
still in Leibnitz's Systema theologicum was the foundation
of the three persons of the trinity.

Ach, lieber Mensch, was schadet es dir, dass du Gott vergonnest,
dass er in dir Gott sei? (Meister Eckhart, ed. Pfeiffer, p. 66, 36).

[Ah, my good man, how will it hurt thee to concede to God that
he exists as God in thee?]

Wenn sich Gott dem Menschen giebt, ist die erste Gabe die
Minne, in der er alle Gabe giebt, die Minne er selber personlich und
wesentlich (p. 328, 10).

• 1250-1327. The first great speculative mystic.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 355

[When God gives himself to man the first gift is love, in which
he gives every gift, — love, which he gives in person and essence.]

Inasmuch as man possesses God, continues Meister
Eckhart, (p. 245, 13) he has power, wisdom and benevo-
lence in person; he has their properties, all three in one
essence. By this admixture is the essential in this power,
wisdom and benevolence defined. Theology borders close
on ethics here; it is not a far cry to say that whoever re-
ceives and possesses God's power, wisdom and benevolence,
all three in person in one essence, becomes himself thereby
"personal" or "a person."

VIII.

Once more we return to the legal usage to gain from
it also an ethical significance. We saw that in Roman
law persona meant man in general and that it included
both freemen and slaves, as for instance in the expression
ius personarum. This meaning gradually disappears and
only the freeman is termed a person.

It is frequently declared that a slave has no right, for
instance Dig. IV, 5, 4 (De capite minutis [On the loss
of civil rights] ) servile caput nullum ius habet, ideo nee
minui potest [A slave has no rights and therefore cannot
be deprived of them], and concerning the day of manu-
mission it says: hodie incipit statum habere [On this day
he begins to have civil standing] (ib.). The point is raised,
that in the eyes of the law, slaves are on a level with the
four-footed animals: servis nostris exaequat quadrupedes
[Our slaves are on a level with the quadrupeds], ad legem
Aquiliam, IX, 2, 2, §2; Quod attinet ad ius civile, servi
pro nullis habentur [With respect to civil rights, slaves
are regarded as nobodies] (De regulis juris) L, 17, 32;
Nulla cadit obligatio [No obligation is incurred] ; (In per-
sonam sen'ilem) L, 17, 22 ; and in a legal sense: servitutem

THE MONIST.

mortalitati fere comparamus [We might almost compare
slavery with death] (De re gulls iuris) L, 17, 209.

Since under this conception a slave is legally disquali-
fied, he is also eliminated from the category of persons
(Nov. Theodos., c. 17) ; servos quasi nee personam habentes
[Slaves (are regarded) as having no person].

In Justinian's time the doctrine obtained that slaves
were not persons; for Theophilus, the Greek translator
of the Institutes, says a slave is aprosopos** a term al-
ready defined (Theophilus ad § 2 Inst. de hered., instit.,
et princ. Inst. de stipulatione servorum. Inst. Ill, 18) for
which a corresponding Latin expression, such as imperso-
nalis, did not arise.

SavignyP observes that this theory developed compara-
tively late.7 Since Justinian it has been established that
the legally qualified man is a person and none other. The
slave is a thing. Persona est homo statu civili praeditus
[A person is a man possessed of civil standing] and freedom
is exclusively an attribute of a person. Should we inquire
further what is freedom, Roman law explains it as the
natural power to do what you please unless you are pre-
vented by force or by law. (Inst. I, 3, I.)

In this concept of person there is implied more than
in the previous conceptions of the word which Kant made
use of to express the ethical idea of man. If what is
merely a means by which, is called a thing, then a being
that is a rational end unto itself and may never be merely
a means must be a "person."

In his letter to Wagner (De vi activa corporis, de anima
et de anima brutorum [On the Active Bodily Energy, on
the Soul and the Soul of Animals], 1710, ed. Erdm., p. 467)
Leibnitz applied the legal concept of person to the deeper

** &irp6<ro}irot ; i. e., un-personal.

p 1779-1861. A celebrated writer and professor of Roman law.

T Savigny, System des heutigen romischen Rechts, Vol. II, 1840, p. 32, n.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 357

characterization of what is human. He considers that con-
sciousness of self and capacity for communion with God
are privileges of the human soul, and thinks that when
once it has participated in this communion it will never
relinquish the person of a citizen in the commonwealth of
God (Sentio nunquam eas deponere personam civis in re-
publica Dei). The right of a person to citizenship in the
commonwealth of God appears in this connection as the
special dignity (Wurde) of mankind.

IX.

A psychological concept of personality naturally pre-
cedes the ethical idea of personality that we sought in the
origin of the name. This concept represents the power of
man to be conscious himself of his identity in the various
states of his existence (Einleitung zu den metaphysischen
Anfangsgrunden der Rechtslehre, p. xxii). Without this
faculty of continuous self-consciousness there could be no
morality, that is to say, no accountability. Even before
Kant had put deeper ethical significance into the word
person and had in this way defined the idea of human na-
ture, Leibnitz, and after him Christian WolfT,^ had asso-
ciated the word person with the conception of a self-con-
sciousness identical with itself in the passage of time.

In the above mentioned letter to Wagner (loc. cit., p.
466) Leibnitz had designated self -consciousness and recol-
lection of a former state as attributes that elevated man
above the beast, and this superiority he termed personae
conservatio [preservation of person] :

Itaque non tantum vitam et animam, ut bruta, sed et conscien-
tiam sui et memoriam pristini status, et, ut verbo dicam, personam
servat.

[Therefore not so much life and soul in common with the beast,
but both consciousness of self and recollection of a former state, and,
if I may use the expression, his person, does he preserve.]

q 1679-1754. He methodized and systematized Leibnitz's philosophy.

THE MONIST.

On this word Chr. Wolff in his Vernunftige Gedanken
von Gott, der Welt, und der Seele des Menschen [Rational
Thoughts on God, the World and the Soul of Man], 1725,
§ 924, remarks :

Since we designate as person, a thing that is conscious of hav-
ing been the same thing previously in this or that state, animals are
not persons. On the other hand since human beings are conscious
of having been the same previously in this or that state, they are
persons.

In the same sense Jacobi,r for instance, opposing the
doctrine of blind dumb necessity that he detected in the
teaching of Spinoza, claimed that there was a personal
God, and -that we mortals derive little satisfaction out of
an impersonal cosmic reason as the ultimate idea on which
to rest.

When man became distinguished from the animal by
the concept of person with the notion of self-consciousness
pervading human existence, it easily happened that the
distinguishing ethical essence, the idea of human nature,
was transferred to the same word.

Thus we see the word person applied in various sci-
ences. Although on the one hand it has been generalized
in common usage, on the other the sciences attach a deep
significance to it. They keep the word elevated and finally
make it possible to have the stamp of a fundamental eth-
ical concept impressed upon it.

We can see from the word "personality" and its paral-
lel "individuality," which also has its history, that they
have not developed among the masses. But such words
coined by science have great value for the commonalty if
they become current and are true to their significant con-
tent, for they may become standards in public judgment

r 1743-1819. A philosophical writer of the intuitionist school and Goethe's
friend.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 359

and even volitional impulses. Consequently, it is the duty
of writers not to wear down and dull the definition.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL COMMENTS BY DR. HANS VAIHINGER*

The exceedingly attractive essay found among Trendelen-
burg's posthumous papers, and printed as the leading article of this
number is supplemented and well substantiated by various publica-
tions of recent date.

In the first place, concerning the remarkable previous history
of the term persona, Dr. Siegmund Schlossmann, professor of law
at Kiel, has recently published Persona und irpoawnov im Recht und
im christlichen Dogma1 [Persona and irpoata-rov in Law and in Chris-
tian Dogma].

The author starts out from the legal concept of person, citing
much literature of great importance, with the express purpose of
ridding the legal conceptual system of this "nuisance," since the con-
cept is vague and indefinite. We must content ourselves with a
mere mention of this learned work in which classical philology,
archeology, church history, and jurisprudence have a rendezvous.

In the second place we should like to draw attention to a treat-
ise which chance brought to our notice, by Professor Dr. Sawicki
of Pelplin (in West Prussia near Danzig), Das Problem der Per-
sonlichkeit bei Kant [The Problem of Personality with Kant], in
Der Katholik.2 The author uses as a starting point the thesis of
D. Greiner3 on Der Begriff der Personlichkeit bei Kant, of which
a review by the present writer appeared in the first volume of the
Kant-Studien, p. 439.

The character of Sawicki's treatise is of course readily deter-
mined from the fact that the work appeared in a Zeitschrift fur katho-
lische Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben [Journal of Catholic Sci-
ence and Church Life], edited by two professors in the episcopal
seminary of Mentz. Nevertheless it gives evidence of gratifying
objectivity, is decorous and reasonable in tone, and is praiseworthy
testimony to the fact that the war against Kant can be waged even
on the conservative side in a spirit that need by no means be as

* An editorial in Kant-Studien, XIII, i and 2, pp. 194 ff.
1 Kiel and Leipsic, Lipsius and Tischer, 1906, pp. 128.
'87. Jahrg., Mentz, Kirchheim & Co., 1907, pp. 44-66.

• In Archiv f. Gesch. d. Phil., X, 1896.

360 THE MONIST.

bitter as that of Willmann. Sawicki's essay is, furthermore, a note-
worthy commentary on the treatise of Dr. Bauch in Kant-Studien,
XIII, i and 2, p. 32, entitled Kant in neuer ultramontan- und liberal-
katholischer Beleuchtung [Kant in the Light of the Newer Ultra-
montanism and Liberal Catholicism].

Among other things Sawicki says : "The concept of personality
has privileges of long standing in the domain of philosophy. But
the ancient world contented itself with the metaphysical concept ; its
application to ethics is the work of modern times. The development
of the concept is to be regarded as most happy, because the concept
of ethical personality suitably designates a moral ideal that is at the
same time eminently Christian."

Here Sawicki refers to his essay, Ernst und Wurde der Per-
sonlichkeit im Christentum* [The Gravity and Dignity of Personal-
ity in Christianity],

"The employment of this concept in an ethical significance goes
back in its essentials to Kant. He did not simply introduce the
concept but also worked it out and defined it. All subsequent achieve-
ments in this field have at least their germ in his work."

Sawicki cites Hoffding's fine saying:

"Apart from the forced derivation, Kant first enunciated a
great and pregnant principle. It is the principle of personality in
its noblest form, a thought that will live long after the fact of its
establishment by Kant has been forgotten. It is a thought of great
ethical importance not only in opposition to the principle of author-
ity when this oversteps its purely educative province, but also in
opposition to the doctrine of outward utility and success which is
satisfied with the husks and forgets the kernel."

By the "metaphysical" concept of personality was meant, accord-
ing to Sawicki, a rational self-conscious substance. Kant overthrew
this metaphysics and warned expressly against the "paralogism" of
personality. Thereby the concept of personality lost its power as the
distinctive mark of substantiality, but Kant enriched the concept
in its ethical application. However, one must distinguish in this
ethical concept of personality between personality as basis, postulate
or predisposition, and personality as the goal of the development
and complete realization of ethical life.

4 Cologne, 1906. In this connection may be recalled the pronounced efforts
of liberal Protestantism in recent years for "personal Christianity," and also
the leaflets published by Dr. Johannes Muller for personal life and the like.
Personality, personal life, etc., have become commonplaces of late years in
connection with the new romanticism.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 361

In the first sense, Sawicki contends, transcendental freedom is
the most intrinsic content of human personality, but merely as a
foundation upon which to lay real moral greatness and not as moral
greatness itself; for that is the end, not the beginning of develop-
ment. In just this sense ought Kant's saying, that "Man is per-
sonality according to his calling," be understood. One ought
also to distinguish in Kant's meaning between negative freedom,
which is self-assertion against all nature, and positive freedom, or
autonomy. Two other definitions that are related to this are that
of personality in Kant's sense as end unto itself (Selbstzweck) and
final aim (Endzweck} and personality as the realized idea of man-
kind.

"We gladly acknowledge that the essential points of the con-
cept as they appear in Kant are justifiable and true. ... It is a noble
conception of the ethical problem of life to define it as the realization
of the idea of mankind or as cultivation of the noblest possessions
of the spirit, and this conception coincides with the truth when free-
dom is considered as the highest perfection of the spirit.

"A spirit strong and great in itself, free inwardly and out-
wardly, is Kant's picture of the moral spirit, and it is a true picture
of moral personality. Equally accurate is the concept of end unto
itself (Selbstzweck} used by Kant as the characteristic of personal-
ity.... Man as a moral being is an end unto himself and must not
be used as a mere means to the realization of an ulterior end ;. . . .
and this applies, as Kant justly emphasizes, even to God. If God
has created man as a rational being, he has pledged himself to
respect man's intrinsic worth and not to destine him for an irrational
life-goal."

"Kant's regard for the social character of man also deserves
full acquiescence .... Finally, recognition is due Kant when he in-
cludes all men without distinction as possessing the dignity of per-
sonality .... However, these merits in the ethics of Kant are offset
by serious errors and weaknesses."

As examples Sawicki calls attention to the purely formal char-
acter of the moral law, its purely a priori character, its want of
union with experience ; and especially the want of distinction be-
tween personality and individuality, and the deficient recognition
of the latter. Kant, he says, understood by personality the reali-
zation of the universal idea of mankind in each individual without
distinction, but he failed to see the importance of particular differ-

362 THE MONIST.

ences between individuals, or of individuality in its distinctiveness
and in its ethical significance which was later justly emphasized and
exalted by Schleiermacher.

According to Sawicki, Kant's final error is his doctrine of com-
plete autonomy, and this is natural because Sawicki holds that human
morality is not purely autonomous but contains necessarily a heteron-
omous element of dependence on God as the highest source of moral
law, and that religion alone, an inner relation with which Kant neither
held nor taught, can make possible the highest perfection of per-
sonality.

In this connection I should like to call attention to another
recent publication, one by Prof. Victor Delbos, Maitre de conferences
of the faculty of literature at the University of Paris. He has edited
a new translation with introduction and notes of the Grundlegung
zur Metaphysik der Sitten, under the title Fondements de la meta-
physique des mceurs.5 This entire work derives particular impor-
tance with regard to the meaning and range of Kant's ethical con-
cept of person from the fact that in it Kant had formulated the con-
cept for the first time. Accordingly the editor has very properly ex-
amined the concept in detail, and altogether he has done everything
possible in his introduction to make the perusal of the work profit-
able and fruitful. The introduction consists of sections on the life
and works of Kant; the moral concepts of Kant in the antecritical
period ; the morality of Kant in the period of philosophical criticism ;
the preparation for ethics by the criticism of speculative reason;
its preparation by the philosophy of history, etc. The seventy pages
of excellent introduction are followed by the translation with a
running commentary in which the concept of person receives intelli-
gent appreciation.

The concept of personality is also presented in an interesting
manner in Personalismus und Realismus, by Hans Dreyer.8 Here
it is stripped of the dogmatic character that had continued to burden
the "intelligible" character of Kant's concept. Personality becomes
the idea of union between personal "faculties" and "qualities." This
idea is then understood as a "task" in Kant's sense, and Dreyer says,
"The task of man is, to become a personality" (op. tit., pp. 71 f.).

Dreyer refers to the purely conceptual, not metaphysical, dis-
tinction between the three chief points, self-consciousness, individu-
ality and character, distinguished by B. Bauch in the work Gluck-

8 Paris, Ch. Delagrave, Rue Soufflot 15.
6 Berlin, Reuther & Reichard, 1905.

THE HISTORY OF THE WORD PERSON. 363

seligkeit und Personlichkeit in der kritischen Ethik1 [Happiness and
Personality in Critical Ethics]. For Bauch also, character means
the task of "making the individual qualities.... an antithesis to
everything vague, unstable, uncertain and indefinite" since, through
the self-conscious will, these qualities experience "a definitely fixed
tendency toward oneness" (op. cit., pp. 19 f).

Dreyer also calls attention to an expression of Goethe's that
accords almost exactly with this conception. In the "intelligible"
character of Kant two definitions lie side by side, of which one can
be considered as a purely regulative principle or task, but the other,
probably by means of the concept of the thing-in-itself, as a kind
of metaphysical entity. Goethe has also conceived of character
purely as a union of the qualities of personality. He observes, as
Dreyer emphasizes, that the word character is employed "when a
personality of notable qualities is persistent in habit, and will be
turned aside therefrom by nothing whatsoever."

T Stuttgart, Frommann, 1902. In Kant-Studien, VIII, pp. 478 £., I have
treated this noteworthy work at some length and need not enter into greater
detail here. In the third chapter (on the place of personality in critical ethics)
personality is elaborately and fittingly dealt with.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY.

WHAT we call personality constitutes the distinctive
feature of a person, and a person is a human being
with a concrete and definite individuality in contrast to
lower creatures such as brute animals. Accordingly we
understand by personality all the several features of a
man's individual existence, including his bodily appearance,
his habits and his character ; and a man evinces his superi-
ority over beasts not only by his rationality, his faculty of
thinking, but also and mainly by his moral qualities, by
responsibility. Personality therefore is prized highest
among all the good things to be met in the field of our ex-
perience. We respect, or at least ought to respect, per-
sonality in others, and our own personality is a sacred trust
which implies weighty and high duties.

The possessions which belong to man, his goods and
chattels and bank account are external to him, they are
his property, they are what he has, and holds and controls,
but his personality is the man himself, and it is but natural
that he wants to be just such a man as he is. Heredity,
tradition and his own experience have shaped his character,
and his character finds expression in his will. Therefore
a man might like to change places with others, he might
be glad to change fortunes, position in life, fame, family
relations and even name, but he would be loath to change
his personality. Everybody clings to his own self. This
truth is expressed by Goethe in an epigram published in
his Westostlicher Divan (VIII) as follows:

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 365

"Volk und Knecht und Ueberwinder,
Sie gestehn zu jeder Zeit;
Hochstes Gliick der Erdenkinder
Sei nur die Personlichkeit.
Jedes Leben sei zu fiihren,
Wenn man sich nur nicht vermisst,
Alles konne man verlieren
Wenn man bliebe was man ist."

[Folks and slaves and he who conquers,

They confess howe'er it be,

Highest bliss for which man hankers

Is his personality.

Any life he rather chooseth

If himself he would not miss,

Anything he gladly loseth

If he stays just what he is. — Tr. by P. C]

Schopenhauer1 describes this habitual clinging to one's
own personality more tersely in two lines, thus:

"Mir geht nun auf der Welt nichts iiber mich ;
Denn Gott ist Gott, und ich bin ich."

[Naught can surpass me, replace or supply,
For God is God, and I am I.]

With a good deal of sarcasm the same idea echoes
through the lines of Wilhelm Busch,2 the famous German
humorist, who says of the evil-doer:

"Audi hat er ein hochst verrucht Gelust,
Grad' so zu sein wie er eben ist."

[The bad one maliciously listeth, you see,
Just such a one as he is, to be.]

1 Schopenhauer puts this rhyme into the mouth of Thrasymachos, one of
his disputants in a dialogue. See his Panerga und Paralipomena, Vol. II;
Kleine dialogische Schlussbelustigung of the chapter Zur Lehre von der Un-
serstorbarkeit unseres wahren Wesens durch den Tod.

* See the writer's translation of Edward's Dream by Wilhelm Busch (Chi-
cago, Open Court Publishing Co., 1909).

366 THE MONIST.

From all this it becomes apparent what an important
idea the concept personality is, and for this reason mystics
have found here a wide field for their theories and for many
vagaries.

The problem of personality is really the problem of
man in his individual and particular idiosyncrasy, and
modern psychology shows how personality, the very self
of man, is a rich complex of many noble qualities, the
quintessence of nature's work at its best, and the highest
efflorescence of the evolution of life. It incorporates voli-
tions, ideas, and aspirations systematized into a unit by
self-consciousness.

Self-consciousness is a distinct prerogative of man.
Lower creatures are sentient, the higher brute animals
conscious, but man alone is self-conscious. He forms an
idea of himself, and this idea of himself raises him above
his bodily and temporary existence. It objectifies his own
self and makes it possible that man can reflect upon himself
and his own actions. He not only feels his own existence
as do the higher animals, but he can say "I" and refers
to himself as "me." He can speak of himself, he can com-
pare himself with others, and he can judge himself. This
makes it possible for him to wish to be different, and what
Goethe says in his epigram is true enough of the average
man, we might say of the natural man, but the higher man
is not satisfied with his character, he aspires to some better
mode of existence. He endeavors to grow better and to
improve himself.

In the growth of evolution self-consciousness rises as
a new factor which makes it possible for the pace of pro-
gress, of intellectual and moral advance, to be greatly
accelerated. The wish to know more and to be better and
nobler gradually hardens into a stern determination and
finally overrules the lower instincts inherited from a less
cultured past.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 367

A man who tries to do the right thing whenever he is
confronted with duties is called "responsible" and the very
thought that conscious endeavor is expected of him
strengthens his responsibility. In this way man forms
an ideal of what he ought to do and what he ought to be ;
and under the guidance of this ideal he can by conscious
concentration work out the nobler potentialities of his self.

The German poet Friedrich Rikkert says:

"Vor Jedem steht ein Bild
Des, das er warden soil,
Und eh' er es nicht ist,
Wird nicht sein Friede voll."

[The type he ought to be

Each one bears in his mind,

Until that be attained

He never peace will find. — Tr. by P. C.]

Responsibility is the divine stamp of man, the stamp
of his nobility and of his dignity. Responsibility presup-
poses that a person is not like a brute which blindly obeys
its instincts, but that he can restrain himself ; that he does
not heedlessly rush into committing a deed, but that he can
deliberate and choose. Thus he does not depend upon the
present only, but can take into consideration the eventual-
ities of the future. He can make his action an expression,
not of the fleeting moment, but of his entire character ; he
may let the better, though more quiet motives have a
chance to assert themselves against the lower impulses,
even though these are louder and at times more vigorous.
In a word responsibility presupposes free will guided by
moral principles, which means that we expect a person to
make his decisions with the good intention of doing the
right thing.

Briefly stated we say : a person is a human being, which
means, a rational creature, endowed with conscience and

368 THE MONIST.

capable of acting on his own free will so that he can be
held responsible for his deeds. Accordingly there are these
four indispensable features in a person, rationality, con-
science, responsibility and free will.

Free will and determinism were formerly held to be
irreconcilable, especially in the old theological disputations,
but the difficulty is de facto a pseudo-problem.3 It is based
upon a confusion of the ideas of compulsion and deter-
minedness. Freedom of will does not mean that the will
is undetermined and indeterminable, a matter of haphazard
chance like a throw of dice, but that it is free to act accor-
ding to its own nature. An act of free will is the result
neither of coercion nor of chance, but the necessary out-
come of a free, that is to say an unhampered, decision, in
which the determinant is the actor's own character.

He only can imagine that free actions in order to be
truly free, are not, nor ought they be, determined by causa-
tion, who conceives of causation as a law in the sense of
an enactment which enforces certain rules, as a government
would enforce its decrees through the power of police
forces. But like all uniformities of nature, causation is
called a law only in an allegorical sense. The so-called
"laws of nature" and "the law of causation" are descrip-
tions of how things behave under given conditions, and
therefore they had better be called "uniformities." If
without being compelled by any one or any outside power,
I act in such a way as to acknowledge the deed to be my
own, it is called an act of my own free will, which being
of a definite kind and following definite principles, will
under given conditions result in definite actions.

The same is true of unconscious nature. The path of

*We have discussed it on former occasions in Fundamental Problems, pp.
191-196 ; The Soul of Man, pp. 389-397 ; The Ethical Problem, pp. 45-47, and
passim.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 369

a comet is determined according to the law of gravitation
through its mass, which under definite conditions takes
a definite course with a definite velocity. The nature of
the comet is such as to behave in this way. The law of
gravitation does not exercise the function of a cosmic
police, it possesses no power and exercises no compulsion.
It is merely a formula which describes the action of grav-
ity. If a comet could speak it would declare that it pursues
a certain direction because it wants to go there.

An act of free will is not an arbitrary deed which would
form an exception to the law of cause and effect. An act
of free will is as much determined by conditions as any
other event, but the decisive factor in an act of free will
is not any extraneous circumstance, but the character of
the acting person. To state it briefly, we define "free will"
as a will unimpeded by any compulsion.

An act of free will characterizes the person who per-
forms it; it indicates what kind of a man he is. An act
done under compulsion is foreign to the actor, and he can
not be held accountable for it.

A person is expected to know that he has to stand by
his deeds, and whenever he acts of his own free will he
recognizes his deeds as his own, and thereby acquires the
feeling of responsibility. A man in whom the feeling of
responsibility is strong will be careful so to act as not to
regret or repent his actions afterwards.

The good intention of doing the right thing develops
naturally and automatically in such a social being as man ;
it is called "conscience," which in a word may be described
as the moral instinct of man.

Personality does not originate in isolation; every per-
son is a member of a social body, of a family, a tribe, of
social conditions, of a nation, of mankind, and a feeling of
interdependence among all members of a society is present
in every one of them from the beginning. Even a pack of

37O THE MONIST.

wolves or dingos is animated in the chase by a common
will, and this common will becomes a motive of action,
which in human society assumes the authority of duty, of
what a man ought to do in the interest of all. The com-
mon will of a community develops instinctively through
the demands made on the members of a social group. These
demands, if not spontaneously attended to, are enforced
by a consensus which finds a different expression in differ-
ent stages of social development. The assent which an
individual more or less consciously gives to the justice of
the common will gradually takes shape in what is called

conscience.4

* * *

Man associates all the motives of actions which are an
expression of his own character with the idea of his self
and speaks of himself as "I" and "me." He says, "This
concerns me, I do this, / will this, I love this, I hate that ;"
and this little pronoun "I," called by philosophers with the
Latin name "ego," becomes the center round which cluster
all these notions of our own yearnings and intentions,
likes and dislikes, preferences and aversions, hopes and
aspirations. In itself the word "I" is as empty as are all
abstract terms, but how replete it is to each of us, contain-
ing all that constitutes the very core of our souls !

The contents of this term "I" or the "ego" which covers
our continuous existence from the cradle to the grave, is
our inmost being, our self, our personality ; what we think
and what we feel is the only thing that is truly ours, and we
quote again a verse from Goethe who expresses this truth

in poetic form thus:

"Ich weiss, dass mir nichts angehort
Als der Gedanke der ungestort

* For a description of the nature and origin of conscience, see the writer's
Ethical Problem, pp. 119-124. The difference between the will of all and the
common will is treated in The Nature of the State, pp. 15-16.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 371

Aus meiner Seek will fliessen,
Und jeder giinstige Augenblick,
Den mich ein liebendes Geschick
Von Grund aus lasst geniessen."

[I know that naught belongs to me
Except the thought that light and free
Out of my soul is flowing ;
Also of joy each moment rare
Which my good fortune kind and fair
Upon me is bestowing!]

Our personality is and ought to be dear to us, and what-
ever may befall we ought to regard it as a sacred trust, and
to keep inviolate its integrity, dignity, and honor our su-
preme duty. All other cares and responsibilities we may have
are subservient to our main task in life, which is the pro-
gressive unfoldment, the constant enhancement and en-
noblement of our self. Everything is secondary so long
as we remain faithful to the ideal of our personality.

The word "person" is to a great extent a synonym of
the word "soul," the main difference being that "person"
is more comprehensive; for it denotes not only the essen-
tial but also the unessential and purely accidental features
of man's individual existence. When we speak of man's
personality we include his bodily appearance, and in fact
think of it first, but we think of it as the expression of the
soul that stirs behind it. We think of a man's personality
as his face and stature, but the features and figure of a
person are remembered as reflecting his character which
is the guiding principle of his life.

Other nations have coined their words for personality
according to its most obvious feature, the bodily appear-
ance. In Chinese the word person is J^, shan, which also
means "body" and was originally the picture of the figure
of a man. In Pali, the language of the sacred books of
the Buddhists, "person" is called by a compound word

372 THE MONIST.

namo-rupa, which literally translated means "name [and]
form." To the people of Pali speech the personality of a
man was first of all his name, and then his bodily appear-
ance as it assumed a material form; but it comprises .not
only the name and form but also his past memories, the
history of his life, his individual tastes, his inclinations,
in a word, his character. As a man was known by a special
name and recognized by his features and corporeal char-
acteristics, these were considered as constituting his per-
sonality, or "name-form," namo-rupa.

The physiological problem of personality touches upon
the larger problem of the one and the many. We mean
by a person a certain unit, yet this unit is not an unchange-
able monad, but the complicated system of a rich manifold.
Several organs and their functions have been combined
into a higher unity by organization. Physiological data
as to the origin and development of personality teach us
that the unit is due to a unification. It is the product
of the cooperative tendency of an organism, of a complex
which has to act in unison.

An organism grows. Every animal has developed from
a cell by multiplication and all its parts are differentiated
by a division of labor. The archetype is preserved in all
of them, every organ being adapted to the work alloted
to it by the nature of circumstances. It is a matter of
course therefore that all parts harmonize. The roots, stem,
leaves, flowers and fruits of a plant show a certain agree-
ment because they have all originated from the same pat-
tern. They are mere modifications of the original design,
and the various functions cooperate in the service of the
whole.

The cooperation of parts in animal organisms is more
systematized than in plants. The different organs of a

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 373

creature possessed of purpose, are so closely united that
they must act in concert. They are no longer coordinated
but subjected to a centralized government. The limbs are
subservient to the purpose of the whole evinced in volitions
which have their seat in the brain whence orders are issued
for general cooperation. This systematization is carried
to a still higher perfection in man, the rational animal who
by the machinery of speech acquires the faculty of thinking
in abstract terms, and thus is capable of testing his own
concepts and reaches an objective comprehension of facts.
Man learns to distinguish between truth and error, between
right and wrong, between good and evil, and he is expected
in his decision and deeds to use the best judgment of which
he is capable.

Not all men are consistent ; some vacillate to an extra-
ordinary degree. But upon the whole, there is a general
convergence of impulses in the mental makeup of every-
body, which in spite of some contradictory tendencies pro-
duces a unity of volition and furnishes the basis of what
may briefly be called character. All the doings and incli-
nations, the preferences and tastes of a man, are as much
in agreement as are the roots, leaves, flowers and fruits
of plants. There is a type which pervades the several
parts, and this type reappears in the unification of the
whole, where it effectually dominates the entire attitude
and behavior of the individual. This is the keynote of a
man's personality, and by a "man of personality" we mean
a person whose character is clearly determined and well
defined.

In a person the dominant feature is registered in his
will but the will of intellectual persons is guided by the
mind, which means that their decisions are influenced by
rational deliberation.

Man's soul is like a commonwealth of sensations, no-
tions, ideas, and other psychic functions. Man's will is

374 THE MONIST.

like a king within it. The will decides, the will acts, and
the will is always inclined to assert itself irrespective of
other considerations. A man of the lower type will follow
the first impulse if it be strong enough at a given moment ;
but in a higher man the will is like a constitutional king
who waits with his decision until he has taken counsel with
his trusted minister of state, and has become assured of
the general assent of the nation. A wise man refrains
from rushing into acts. In him the first impulse is checked
by some such thought as, "Wait, let me consider the con-
sequences." The counsel which a ruler takes is comparable
to the intellect, or the mind ; and the higher mankind rises
in the scale of evolution, the stronger grows this power
of inhibition, resulting in what ethicists call "self-control"
in consequence of which the influence of the mental process
of deliberation increases.

The intellect is not a faculty any more than is the will,
but it is a collective name for the sum total of experiences
as arranged in a systematic order. There is no special
faculty called the will. By will psychologists understand
"the tendency to pass into act." A motor idea when stimu-
lated one way or another, innervates its respective set of
muscles and makes them contract thus serving the purpose
of the intention, and the tension preceding the act, at the
moment of its release, is called "will." But it is essential
that the process should not be purely physiological but must
pass into consciousness — the domain of psychology — while
touching the motor idea. In order to render an act of the
will complete, the motor idea should be associated with the
ego conception expressed in the word "I" which, as it were,
sanctions its passing into act by thinking "I will it." Should
a stimulus leading to a muscular motion be purely physio-
logical, the process would not be an act of the will, but a
mere reflex action.

Though the will is not a faculty we can speak of the

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 375

attitude of the ego consciousness when allowing motor ideas
to pass into act, as "the will."

The pragmatic view, so fashionable now, describes the
actual state of things on the lower plane of mankind. Its
founder has taken a dislike to the intellect and has opened
a campaign against what he calls "vicious intellectualism."
Prof. William James is satisfied to point out the power of
"the will to believe," but he neglects to inquire into the
rare cases of the influence of the still small voice of the
intellect which modifies and even radically changes the be-
lief, yea the character of a man in spite of his will. As a
psychology, pragmatism presents us with a correct, or
fairly correct, picture of the average type of man, but as
a philosophy it is a failure because it treats the average as
the standard and overlooks the existence of a higher type.

In the realm of science the supremacy of the will is
sheer atavism, for it represents man as he has just emerged
from brute existence ; when man ceases to be a slave of his
instincts, a child of blind impulses, when he begins to be
influenced by his intellect, when he begins to learn the
lessons of life, when he forms ideals and aspires for higher
aims, when he considers his highest duty to be self-edu-
cation, and an actualization of his higher potentialities,
when he feels responsibilities — then only does he become

a person in the full sense of the word.

* * *

The history of the word "person" is of great interest.
To be sure the etymology is absolutely unknown, for the
common derivation of classical tradition from personare,
to sound through, mentioned by Gellius (V, 7) is philo-
logically impossible on account of the different quantity
of the o. But we know positively that persona was a term
of the stage denoting the mask of an actor, the part he
played, the role which he learned by heart — thoughts ex-
pressed in words accompanied by definite actions.

376 THE MONIST.

It has become customary during the last century to
study the history of an idea in order to understand both
its origin and meaning, and in this sense the late Professor
Trendelenburg has approached the problem of the signifi-
cance of personality. He has collected all particulars on
the etymology of the term, its historical interrelation with
the Greek TT/OOO-WTTOV (i. e., face), its possible derivation
from per-se-una, "that which is one by itself," or its forma-
tion by the suffix ona, as per-se-ona, "that which is self -con-
taining," in analogy to Pomona, the fruit-containing one
(the goddess of orchards), Bellona, the goddess of war,
matrona, etc. Masculine analogies to nouns in -ona are
patronus and colonus. Trendelenburg also alludes to the
theological idea of the Trinity as one substance in three
persons, etc. In a word, he offers in this essay a good col-
lection of the most essential philological and etymological
data which have reference to the formation and interpreta-
tion of the word "person."

Trendelenburg' s essay "On the History of the Word
Person" remained buried among other posthumous papers
for many years and has only recently been published.5 In
the meantime Dr. Otto Gierke, professor of German Civil
and State Law at the University of Berlin, has set forth
for juridical purposes a doctrine as to the nature of person,
which he calls the "organic theory." Under this he sub-
sumes not only living individuals but also juridical persons,
and he speaks of person in this sense as "a life unit which
withdraws itself absolutely from sense perceptions." He
adds, "And even his [an actual man's] personality is an at-
tribute attached to this invisible unit which is simply de-
duced from its effects. It is a crude error to think that
a separate personality can be seen with bodily eyes.6

Prof. Sigmund Schlossmann of Kiel takes issue with

*An English translation of the essay appears on another page in the
present number of The Monist.

'Das Wesen der menschlichen Verb'dnde; Rektoratsrede, 1902, p. 18.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 377

this organic theory and going to the other extreme criti-
cises it as a nuisance (Schddling) which has burdened
jurisprudence with the fictitious existence of a juridical
agent endowed with legal functions, and ought to be set
aside. In a scholarly essay entitled Persona undTrpoo-amov,
Professor Schlossmann has collected almost all the philo-
logical material on hand and fulminates his anathema
against Gierke's view. He certainly succeeds in proving
that the Latin persona is not a translation of the Greek
prosopon, but that both words have developed indepen-
dently into the meaning of person, influencing each other
as two electric currents affect each other by induction
(loc. cit., p. 99). In truth the word acquired the meaning
of person only under the influence of the Latin conception
of persona, and this was done not on the ground of juridical
considerations but of theological discussion on the nature
of the Trinity. Wherever prosopon is used in the sense
of persona, or aprosopos in the sense of not having a per-
sona, we can point out an actual or highly probable in-
fluence of Latin thought upon the author who thus uses
these words. Professor Schlossmann shows that Diony-
sius of Halicarnassus had become accustomed to this con-
venient term during a sojourn at Rome of more than
twenty years. Herennius Modestinus, however, was prac-
tically a Roman who wrote in Greek, and so his use of
prosopon in the sense of persona may be regarded as a
Latinism.7

The use of the Greek prosopon has unquestionably been
influenced by the Hebrew panim,* where the word is used
in a loose sense frequently merely as a preposition "in the
face of," which simply means "in front of." This use of

T See Schlossmann, loc. cit., pp. 47-48.

8 D*;p. It is derived from !"!2D which means "to turn." While the Hebrew

term is a pluralitantum it is noteworthy that the Greek expression "in the face
of is always used in the singular. Cf. Luke ii. 31 ; x. I. ror further passages
see Schlossmann, loc. cit., pp. 53 ff., especially p. 55.

378 THE MONIST.

prosopon is late and does not antedate Christianity, but can
be directly traced to quotations from the Septuagint.

In theology the term hypostasis, Latin substantia, "that
which underlies," was used to denote the nature of the
three aspects of the Trinity by the Latin Church Fathers,
especially Tertullian who replaced this neo-Platonic term
by persona. And here, in spite of the learned authority of
Harnack and his followers,9 Professor Schlossmann is right
who says that Tertullian did not introduce the term per-
sona from the nomenclature of jurisprudence, because it
did not exist as such, or at least was used only sporadically.
In fact there are only two places in which persona is used
in a sense approaching our modern conception of a jurid-
ical person. These are found in Frontinus who speaks of
persona coloniae, thus personifying a Roman colony, and
in Agenius Urbicus who speaks of personae publicae, also
called coloniae, which hold definite places assigned to them
and are commonly named praefecturae.™

On the other hand, the use of persona in the modern
sense as a person (not as a mask on the stage) is quite old
and occurs as early as in Plautus (Persa, 783) where Dor-

9 Harnack is supported by Loofs, Realencyc. f. d. prot. Theol., IV, p. 40.
Bethune-Baker, "The Meaning of Homoousios, in the Constantinopolitan
Creed" in Texts and Studies, Vol. VII, pp. 21 ff. ; Hatch, Griechentum und
Christentum (Ger. tr. by E. Preuschen), p. 206 ff. He is opposed by Esser in
Wetzer and Welte's Kirchenlex., XIs, p. 142, 2; Bardenhewer, Geschichte der
altkirchlichen Literatur, II1, p. 388, and Seeberg, Lehrbuch der Dogmenge-
schichte, I, p. 87, and by Schlossmann himself, from whom we quote this bib-
liographic note.

10 The passage from Frontinus (De controv. agr. II in Rom. Feldmesser,
by Blume, Lachmann and Rudorff, I, pp. 54, 23) reads: "Est alia inscriptio
quae — inscribitur 'Silva pascua'^aut 'Fundus Septicianus, coloniae Augustae
Concordiae.' Haec inscriptio videtur ad personam coloniae ipsius pertinere
neque ullo modo abalienari potest a republica."

The passage in Agenius (8, 6 ; loc. cit., I, p. 16) reads : "Quaedam Iqca
feruntur ad publicam personam attinere, nam personae publicae etiam coloniae
appellantur. Quae habent assignata in alienis finibus quaedam loca, quae sole-
mus praefecturas appellare. Harum praefecturarum proprietates_ manifesto ad
colonos pertinent — sunt et aliae proprietates quae municipiis a principibus sunt
concessae."

Another later quotation from Ulpianus (Dig. IV, 2. 9, i) has been used for
the same purpose but is less convincing. We shall quote it nevertheless. It
reads: "et ideo si singularis sit persona, quae metum intulit vel populus vel
curia vel collegium vel corpus, huic edicto locus erit."

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 379

dalus, one of the characters of the play, swears "at the
Persian, at all the Persians, and in fact at all persons."11
The explanation that personas might here mean the masks
on the stage is too far fetched to be entertained. While
the pun suggests the use of the word person, the passage
proves that the word was then used in its present accept-
ance.

The juridical usage of person, however, is isolated in
classical times, and does not appear elsewhere in juridical
writings. Even in the Institutiones of Gaius, its use is not
far from the common acceptance of the word, and we read
for instance (Inst., Ill, 14, 2) that "an inheritance not yet
entered upon still maintains the place of the person not
of the future heir, but of the deceased." Certainly Ter-
tullian used the word persona in the popularly accepted
meaning, and if he had introduced the term from juris-
prudence he would have said so.

During the time of ecclesiastical controversies concern-
ing the nature of the Trinity, the Latin Church insisted on
the formula that God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, are
three persons and one substance, and not until then were
the words prosopon and hypostasis identified.

On the other hand the Greek idea hypostasis has in-
fluenced the conception of persona which appears mainly
in the oldest definition of the word still extant as given by
Boethius who introduces the term substantia, the Latin
translation of hypostasis, saying:

"Quocirca si persona in solis substantiis est atque in his
rationalibus, substantiaque omnis natura est, nee in uni-
versalibus sed in individuis constat, reperta personae est
igitur definitio: Persona est naturae rationalis individua
substantia."

Other definitions, especially that of Cassiodorus, repeat

11 See Schlossmann, loc. cit., p. 15. The passage reads : "Qui ilium Persam
atque omnes Persas atque etiam omnes personas male di omnes perdant.

380 THE MONIST.

the same idea in somewhat different form: "Persona vero
hominis est substantia rationalis individua suis proprietati-
bus a consubstantialibus caeteris segregata."

The identification of two different terms such as hypo-
stasis or substantia and persona indicate the presence of
two currents of thought, one philosophical the other mys-
tico-religious, which were finally merged into one ; but the
differences blazed forth in the animosity of the furor theo-
logicus recorded in ecclesiastical history. The differences
continue even to the present time though they find other
terms as exponents of two contradictory views.

The controversy was set at rest by repeated official
declarations that the quarrel was purely verbal, and so
we find both prosopon and hypostasis repeatedly used to-
gether with rpoi or -qyow, as if to emphasize that the
two terms mean exactly the same. In Latin ecclesiastical
manuscripts the two words are used synonymously in the
same manner: personae seu subsistentiae or personae vel
subsist entiae.12

According to Schlossmann the importance of the term
persona in antiquity has been greatly exaggerated since it
appears to have meant merely one who plays a part, so that
the expression "slaves are not persons" simply meant that
slaves played no part before the law, their rights were ig-
nored by the law. It is noteworthy that the Greek apro-
sopos occurs in Theophilus who has obviously been influ-
enced by the Roman usage of the word persona.

The history of the theological use of the term "person"
certainly proves that the idea of personality with reference
to the deity is rather late and leaves to those who object
to the use of the term the excuse of being the result of

" Some theologians, for instance the Roman Diaconus Rusticus, in his Dis-
putatio contra Acephalos, use subsistentia in place of the^more common sub-
stantia in order to give more dignity to the term, which in its abbreviated form
had ceased to mean "that which underlies" and was commonly used in the
sense of "substance."

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 381

ecclesiastical quibbles, in which two such different terms
as hypostasis which means a substratum and persona which
means an individual being, have for insufficient reasons
been finally declared identical.

Prof. F. Max Miiller wrote a short essay on the same
subject which he has published under the title Persona.13
It is a most interesting and instructive sketch pointing out
that persona originally meant the mask of an actor and
then the part he played, the words he had to say on the
stage, and the actions which he had to perform.

There is, however, one point in which Max Miiller is
mistaken. A person is the part which a man plays in life ;
he is the character which, as it were, he acts. His person
manifests itself in the sentiments which sway him, in the
deeds he performs and in the words he says. Our senti-
ments, thoughts, words and deeds form a harmonious
whole, they constitute a systematic unity, and in this their
totality they constitute our personality; they are our self.
Every one of us plays his own part in life. He is the actor
who acts himself. In other words he has not memorized
a part which some one else has conceived and written down.
He is the poet who improvises the role which under given
situations he wants to have performed. The part which a
man plays is of his own making. However, Max Miiller
conceives a person not as the part he plays, but as the actor
only. He distinguishes between the two, and regards the
part which a person plays in life as a performance that is
foreign to him. While in real life a man is the part he
plays in the world, the actor on the stage may be very dif-
ferent from it. For instance he who plays Judas Iscariot
in the passion play at Oberammergau, may have nothing in
common with the character of the betrayer of Jesus. Max
Miiller's view is dualistic. Following the speculations of
the old Brahman Vedantism, he conceives of the soul as a

"Chicago: The Open Court Publishing Co., 1908.

382 THE MONIST.

metaphysical being behind our actual existence, as a thing-
in-itself, a passive witness, and a mere spectator. We will
let him explain his view in his own words. He says : "Let
us remember that persona had two meanings, that it meant
originally a mask, but that it soon came to be used as
the name of the wearer of the mask. Knowing how many
ambiguities of thought arose from this, we have a right
to ask : Does our personality consist in the persona we are
wearing, in our body, our thoughts, or does our true per-
sonality lie somewhere else? It may be that at times we
so forget ourselves, our true Self, as to imagine that we
are Romeo and Juliet, King Lear, or Prince Hamlet. Nor
can we doubt that we are responsible each for his own
dramatis persona, that we are hissed or applauded, pun-
ished or rewarded, according as we act the part allotted
to us in this earthly drama, badly or well. But the time
comes when we awake, when we feel that not only our flesh
and our blood, but all that we have been able to feel, to
think and to say, was outside our true self; that we were
witnesses, not actors ; and that before we can go home, we
must take off our masks, standing like strangers on a
strange stage, and wondering how for so long a time we
did not perceive even within ourselves the simple distinc-
tion between persona and persona, between the mask and
the wearer."

The truth is that if life is to be compared to a stage
we play our own parts, and the characters which we repre-
sent exhibit our own personality. On the stage the actor
behaves as his part demands; his part does not belong to
him; the poet is responsible for it, not the actor who has
learned it by heart and speaks it by rote. In actual exis-
tence the mask and the actor are one and the same; the
parts we play are not foreign to us, as Max Miiller claims,
but they are the true and only expressions of our inmost
being, of our personality.

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 383

We have seen that one's personality must to every one
be higher than all his possessions, because it constitutes the
man himself, the owner of all his earthly goods. Thus it
is obvious that the worth of one's personality is not only
more valuable than any property, but it is also different
in kind. In the history of mankind the recognition of the
dignity of personality shows itself in our legal and habitual
notions of respect for human lives. It is considered a duty
at any cost to save or rescue a man who is in danger of
death, and in comparison to the jeopardy of human life all
commercial goods and their values are deemed a negligible
quantity.

Kant in his definition of personality declares that a per-
son should always be considered as an end in itself, and
this holds good for our own person as in the case of other
persons with whom we are dealing.

We ask now, ( i ) What is the nature of this exceptional
place we assign to personality? (2) Is every personality
of equal dignity? and if not, this leads to (3) What is the
objective standard of the worth of personality?

The first question is answered when we remember what
personality is. A person is an individual that is possessed
of reason. It is a social being, which means that it is a
member of a community, endowed with speech as the means
of a communication of thought, and conscious of rights as
well as duties, capable of pursuing purposes, and respon-
sible for its actions.

If we adopt the old Brahman idea as advocated by
Max Miiller we would be compelled to believe that what
we call "person" is a mysterious agent behind all the char-
acteristics and deeds of a personality. If that were truly
so all persons would be of equal value, for they are mere
spectators, and what they are or do in life concerns them
as little as the actor can be held personally responsible for
the crimes he commits on the stage when performing the

384 THE MONIST.

part assigned to him. Buddhism denied the Brahman view
of the metaphysical nature of the self, and modern psychol-
ogy, sometimes erroneously called the psychology without
a soul, follows the same line of argument in denying .the
existence of a soul in itself. According to this view a
person consists of his thoughts and volitions. He is not
the owner of his qualities but the sum total of all of them.
The Brahman view has originated through a philosophical
mistake which hypostasizes the idea of the thing and treats
it as a thing in itself. It is a common habit to say that the
tree has roots, a trunk, foliage, blossoms and fruit, while
in fact the tree consists of its parts. We say a table has
legs, and a top; that a wagon has wheels, a body and a
tongue; but we ought to say that these objects consist of
their several parts. They are combinations, and this very
combination makes the thing what it is. Lowell says:

"Roots, wood, bark and leaves, singly perfect may be,
But clapped hodge-podge together, they don't make a tree."

The unity of a personality is of high importance, and
according to conditions it is more or less significant. Some-
times the very systematic character of a personality adds
to the value of a man's thoughts by giving them their
proper setting and interrelation with other thoughts. How-
ever, the unity of a person is a unification and since a unifi-
cation consists of qualities, we shall readily understand that
a person is not a special being or essence but their har-
monious combination in an organized form ; and the worth
of a personality can depend only on its character, its con-
tents. We range one person higher than another if his
character is superior, if his intelligence is higher, if his
sentiments are more humane and refined.

The rationality of a person's mental operations means
that his soul has become an incarnation of the world order,
the universal logic of natural law, the eternal norm of ex-

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 385

istence, called in the terminology of Christian doctrines,
the Logos. It includes the recognition of moral obligation,
popularly called conscience, and constitutes the divinity of
man which is forfeited only by those who by deeds prove
that they themselves do not respect the dignity of per-
sonality in others, that for selfish reasons they would not
shrink from taking the life of one of their fellow men.

When we consider the composite nature of personality
we become aware of the fact that different persons are
different in character and mental equipment. Thus they
are not equal and their comparative worth can be measured
by the general desirability of their moral and mental ca-
pacity together with a consideration of the strength, seri-
ousness etc., of their intentions and volitions.

* * *

For an analysis of the nature of personality it is most
indispensable to understand the part played by ideas in the
economy of our mental life.

It is natural that, misled by the mode of language, we
fall into the mistake of the ancient Brahmans in imagining
that we have ideas. Though we consist of ideas, we objec-
tify them and treat them as if they were commodities. We
say that we adopt opinions as if we appropriated them.
But the truth is the reverse. Ideas, opinions, or convictions
take possession of us, sometimes against our will, which
means against the conviction which we held before, or
properly speaking which was in possession of our soul.
Our soul is the battle-ground where conflicting views are
waging a bitter warfare for the supremacy among many
contrary volitions. Our mind is like a commonwealth in-
habited by various ideas. These ideas combine and pro-
duce new ideas. At the same time, experience as well as
intercommunication with others introduces immigrants.
New ideas enter. Sometimes they are invaders, and if
these immigrants are at variance with those ideas that are

386 THE MONIST.

in possession, parties are formed and a civil war arises
until one side becomes dominant. When a powerful in-
vader is victorious, we have an instance in which we be-
come converts to a new conviction in spite of ourselves.

It is apparent that ideas lead a life of their own. They
grow and develop. They migrate from soul to soul. They
are transferred by the way of language and through writ-
ing. Ideas themselves originate, grow and change. In
the course of their migration they become more or less
modified and adapt themselves to new environments. They
struggle among themselves. Some are victorious, others
succumb ; some are exterminated, others survive. They fit
themselves into a system in which some of them take the
lead while others remain subservient.

Ideas are the most potent factors in the history of man-
kind. Wherever they reside in human souls they are aglow
with life and sentiment. But in their transmigration they
may be conveyed by mechanical means in script ; they may
shrivel up into small inky letters on paper and in this shape
they may lie concealed in unfeeling forms of dead matter.
They may be incorporated in books or manuscripts or other
symbols, and yet like grains of seed which fall into fertile
land, they may revive whenever they impress themselves
through the senses into the brain of a living being. Indeed
ideas are wonderful things, for they are the vehicles of
all spirituality. In order fully to understand our own per-
sonality we ought to be able to trace back the life of the
ideas of which our souls are composed to their very origins,
and to their most primitive original conditions which al-
ways start in sensation, or, broadly speaking, in making
experience. They coalesce with and draw conclusions from
previous experience, or react somehow on the impressions
of the surrounding world, and in doing so they give mean-
ing to life.

Without going astray or being fantastical we may com-

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 387

pare ideas to real persons. At least the idea we have of
persons is after all the most appropriate simile we have to
characterize their being. Think only of moral ideas, of
ideals, of religious sentiments! They enter the soul of
a man and take hold of his entire existence often in spite
of his will. And what a profound truth lies in the dogma
of resurrection! Jesus the Crucified has actually risen
from the dead, and where two or three are gathered to-
gether in his name, he is present.

* * *

The behavior of ideas is rather impersonal, and we may
characterize them as interpersonal existences. Lichten-
berg, a contemporary of Kant, struck the right chord when
he objected to the expression "I think," and claimed that
we should say, "it is thinking" just as we say, "it is rain-
ing" or "it is snowing" or "it is thundering." It is a fall-
acy to imagine that there is a certain I, an ego who does
the thinking. This is the old metaphysical mistake. The
truth is that thoughts arise in living beings according to
conditions. There is no ego that produces thoughts, but
thinking takes place, and in the process of thinking,
thoughts are shaped. We do not deny that the idea of the
ego is a highly important contrivance in the household of
nature to make thinking possible. But the ego is after all
not the cause of our existence but the result and product
of it.

What is the nature of the ego?

The ego represents the sum total and summary of the
component parts of a person, and is used in this sense as a
synonym for personality. The word "I" is a pronoun, a
brief term which stands for a noun, and the pronoun "I"
always stands for the speaking person. In itself, therefore,
the "ego" is meaningless. It is a mere shorthand sign for
the speaking person and its true content is determined by
the personal characteristics which it denotes.

388 THE MONIST.

The ego identifies itself in different persons with differ-
ent ideas which dominate the commonwealths of their souls.
Ideas themselves however are representatives either of con-
crete things or classes of things, or of the interrelations
among things, or of aspirations and plans to accomplish
certain aims, and the value of ideas depends upon their
significance, their range and applicability to real life, and
above all upon their truth, which means the correctness
with which they represent either objective reality or the
right way of dealing with reality.

Accordingly there is unquestionably a standard for the
value of ideas, and if of ideas, then also of man himself. The
truer and clearer a set of ideas mirrors the world, the more
valuable they are; and the more perfect a man's soul re-
flects existence as a law-ordained cosmos, the higher he
ranges in the development of life.

We have seen that a person is a systematic arrange-
ment of ideas, taking here ideas in the broadest sense of the
word including sentiments, hopes and volitions. We have
further seen that ideas are interpersonal beings migrating
from soul to soul. We will now call attention to a subject
very much neglected and frequently misunderstood, which
is the part played by superpersonalities. In the develop-
ment of mankind we frequently meet with institutions such
as the church, the state, and also systematized sets of truths,
such as the several sciences, mathematics, astronomy, chem-
istry, etc. These systems of ideas, whether purely theoret-
ical as the sciences, or whether incarnate in institution
such as states, churches, etc., possess a life of their own.
They are not limited to science, religion and politics but
deal also with business and any other possible affairs.
Every municipality has a character of its own, and the

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 389

same is true of business concerns, factories, corporations,
societies and even clubs. They are, as it were, superper-
sonal presences which consist of persons and continue to
preserve their character even when the old members are re-
placed by new ones. Such superpersonalities are not non-
existent, but they lead a life of their own. Although cor-
porations are said to have no souls, each one is possessed
of a definite character, and different corporations differ in
dignity and other qualities as much as do individuals.

It is important for us to understand the significance of
superpersonalities because without a due appreciation of
them we cannot understand either religion or patriotism.
Superpersonalities live in ideals and it is by no means in-
different in what way groups of persons are associated to-
gether. Superpersonal interrelations in politics are of
great consequence, and it is very important how citizens
are united into states, whether in the shape of a republic,
or an absolute monarchy, or a constitutional government,
and every form of a national constitution has the tendency
of self-preservation which, however, is subject to modi-
fication through natural growth — sometimes through revo-
lution.

There ought to be founded a special branch of psychol-
ogy to determine the constitution, logic and sentiments
of superpersonal presences. To some extent, but not alto-
gether, it would be identical with, or at least similar to,
the psychology of the masses. We must bear in mind that
the psychological aspect of a superpersonal presence con-
sists in certain brain structures distributed over a greater
or less number of persons who are inspired with the same
or similar principles and tendencies, and so they cooperate
in more or less clearly defined concerted actions.

We may define a superpersonal presence as a systematic
set of ideas which form a higher unity, and there are great
varieties of such systems of ideas. If they enter into his-

39O THE MONIST.

tory as dominant principles we speak of them as "historical
movements." If they take shape in visible form, if build-
ings and property are set aside for their uses, or if in their
interest duties are assigned to officers, we speak of them
as "institutions"; if they are types set forth for imitation
we call them "ideals," and if they are chartered by law and
have their functions duly determined they become "jurid-
ical persons." At any rate they differ greatly in dignity
and may be as flippant in character as a bridge-club, or
as serious as a church, or as awe-inspiring as a god of pagan
antiquity.

It is typical of the human mind to personify these super-
personal presences; and so the powers, phenomena, and
laws of nature, such as the thunderstorm, the sun, the moon,
the sky, the ocean, etc., and also the factors of human so-
ciety, courage, wisdom, science, war, are represented in
poetic figures as Zeus, Athene, Vulcan, Mars, Venus and
the other gods of the pagan pantheons. These conceptions
have been as influential in the life of the several nations
as if they had been living beings guiding and directing
those who believed in their existence. In this sense we
must look upon them not as mere fiction, but as real and
definite agencies whose nature is of higher consequence
than even historical personalities, leaders in peace and war,
and law-givers.

On the other hand there are historical personages who
change, or at any rate are transfigured, after death into
superpersonal presences. The mortal coil is shuffled off
and they become paragons of the virtue or the ideal which
in some way or other they have come to represent. This
idealization of historical persons takes place everywhere
in history, and we can observe the process even now. Bis-
marck has become the Paladin of German unity and it was
quite appropriate to represent him in a colossal statue as
the figure of the mythical Roland. In the United States

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 39 1

Washington has received a similar veneration and the same
happens over and over again in all climes and countries.
Even a living man still dwelling with us in the body may
be dignified by coming to stand for a superpersonal idea.
Alexander the Great very adroitly had himself worshiped
as the son of the god Ammon and even in his coins he car-
ries the ram's horns which symbolize this belief. Napoleon
instinctively, perhaps purposely and shrewdly, imitated his
example and managed to have the press of the day picture
and characterize him as a kind of reincarnation of Caesar.
As a rule, however, a person is thus dignified only
after his death. Indeed he frequently comes to be revered
as such a superpersonal ideal by suffering martyrdom for
a great cause. And Schiller says truly:

"Derm was ewig im Gesang soil leben,
Muss auf Erden untergehen."

[What shall live in song forever
That must perish here on earth.]

The figures of the polytheistic gods are but little appre-
ciated to-day. Historians in ancient Greece and in modern
times have investigated whether or not Heracles existed,
where he may have lived, and whether there is any histor-
ical nucleus of his labors. At the time when paganism
broke down people began to doubt the historicity of Hera-
cles. Then this superpersonal figure of the Greek hero
began to fade in the memory of the people. Such is the
death of superpersonalities. The hero died and was sup-
planted by other ideals offered in the growth of a new re-
ligion called Christianity.

During the prime of Greek civilization, Heracles was
by no means a nonentity. He was an important factor in
the intellectual and moral life of Greece. He moulded the
character of young men. He inspired them with motives
of high courage and other virtues, and in the same way

392 THE MONIST.

all of the gods must be regarded as superpersonalities
who were no mean presences in the life of the nation where
they prevailed.

From such considerations we must also approach the
superpersonalities of the Christian faith, especially the fig-
ure of Christ. From this standpoint we shall understand
that in a certain sense and for the main purpose, which is
the inspiring influence of the Christ ideal in the hearts of
believers, it is quite indifferent whether or not Jesus was
an historical person.

Jesus the Galilean who lived nineteen centuries ago in
an obscure corner of Palestine can be of no possible use to
us unless he becomes a real presence in our lives, and this
means that he must be raised to the power and dignity of
a superpersonality — of an ideal which to the dull eye of the
uninitiated seems to be a mere nonentity, but is in truth a
guidance for our conduct and a dominating factor in our
lives.

The God of Christianity has supplanted the ancient
gods of paganism, and we can understand why he has been
so much more potent than they. He does not represent
one or another power of nature. He stands for the totality
of all that exists and also the creative faculty which has
produced the world and continues to mould it. The Church
Fathers, as well as the Christian philosophers who suc-
ceeded them, especially Athanasius, Augustine, Anselm,
and Thomas Aquinas, worked out the doctrine of Chris-
tian philosophy. They gave considerable thought to the
idea of personality, and after many internal struggles
finally shaped the conception of this highest superper-
sonal presence in the doctrine of the Trinity, or more
properly speaking Tri-Unity, of God. The orthodox
churches insist most vigorously on the dogma that God

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 393

is one and only one, but at the same time that there is in
God a trinity of persons, which means that the deity
manifests itself in three modes and each mode constitutes
a unity in itself.

It is well known that the Buddhists too believe in a
Trinity which consists of the Buddha, the Dharma, and the
Sangha, i. e., (i) the Enlightened Teacher, (2) the Truth,
and (3) the Brotherhood or Church. It is called the
Triratna or the "three jewels," and is conceived as three
personalities, called the Trikaya, or in Chinese H^f san
shan. Not unlike the Christian Trinity, the three persons
of the Buddhist Trikaya represent the three phases or as-
pects of God, or whatever we may call the object of re-
ligious worship.

In the Mahayana doctrine the three kayas are thus
described: the Dharmakaya, the body of the good law, is
the system of all religious doctrines; the Nirmanakaya or
the body of transformations, is the development of truth
in the evolution of life finding its climax in the personality
of a Buddha ; and the Sambhogakaya, the body of perfect
bliss, is the eternal world-order, the sum total of all the
verities of natural and moral laws which dominate all
existence, whose revelation is the Dharma and whose in-
carnation in human form is called the Enlightened One,
the Buddha, he who has found the truth and teaches it.

The Sambhogakaya is, as it were, the static aspect of
God, while the two others are dynamic. The Nirmana-
kaya is kinetic and the Dharmakaya potential ; and all three
are one and the same, — just as energy remains the same in
all its phases and transformations.

The Sambhogakaya corresponds to God the Father in
Christian doctrine, and from him proceed both the Nir-
manakaya, and the Dharmakaya; the three are one and
the same, though each of them is conceived as a personality
(kdya) of his own, and the three are present in their human

394 THE MONIST.

incarnation in the Buddha. The Buddha represents the
eternal truth of the world; he teaches the right religious
doctrines, and he is the climax of the evolution of truth in
life.

It is interesting to notice that in spite of the abstract
and philosophical tone of the Buddhist doctrine of the Trin-
ity, the need of personifying the highest religious author-
ity finds an expression in the term Trikdya (or in Chinese,
san shan), i. e., "the three persons," and notwithstanding
many fundamental differences, this doctrine is similar to
the orthodox conception of the Christian Trinity.

According to Christian theology, God has three aspects.
God is, above all, the Eternal, the Law that molds exist-
ence, the ultimate raison d'etre which remains the same
for ever and aye, and in the nomenclature of theology is
called "God the Father." But this abstract being which
is without beginning and without end manifests itself in
the actually realized world. It appears as the working
world-order called by Greek Christians the Logos and finds
its consummation in the appearance of the ideal man, the
God-man or Christ, and in this aspect is called "God the
Son." It manifests itself in life as the superpersonal ideal
of a human person, the incarnation of truth and right-
eousness, but since this ideal is foredetermined in the con-
stitution of being, its principle is co-eternal with God the
Father, and thus the doctrine is upheld that Christ is be-
gotten of God from eternity, being as it were the Logos of
the actual world, and it is stated that the world is created
through the Son.

The third person of the Godhead is less clearly defined
and for a time it was doubtful how the Holy Ghost ought
to be conceived. A Trinity of some kind was needed for
both historical and logical reasons. All duality is inhar-
monious and tends to find its solution in a third element,
viz., in a combination of the two-hood. In some pre-

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 395

Christian religions the Trinity was made up of the mem-
bers of the threehood of the family, i. e., God- Father, God-
Mother and God-Child, as for instance Osiris, Isis, Horus.
But in other religions there were other trinities which did
not find a prototype in the human family but were of a
more abstract, sometimes more physical, sometimes more
logical, nature. Thus we have in Babylon Anu, Ea and
Bel ; in India Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva ; in ancient Etru-
ria Tinia, Thalma and Menrva.

Among certain heretical sects the Holy Ghost was con-
ceived as the Mother of Christ, but this conception was not
accepted by the Church. We must remember that the He-
brew word 'ruah is of feminine gender, and among some
of the Graeco-Egyptian gnostics was replaced by Sophia,
a feminine conception of wisdom. Later on the term Ghost
was translated by pneuma which is neuter, and since the
humanization of the conception of God in the shape of
father, mother and child was scorned as pagan, the Holy
Ghost was finally treated as a kind of neuter element in the
orthodox conception of God.

The Holy Ghost is, as it were, God in the making. It
is God as the divine dispensation ; it is the advance move-
ment in the development of mankind, the justice of history,
the power which makes for righteousness, and thus we
have the seeming contradiction in church dogmas that
Christ was begotten through the Holy Ghost, not directly
by God the Father; and that the Holy Ghost proceeds at
the same time from both God the Father and God the Son.

The Holy Ghost being God in the making, i. e., the
divine dispensation of history, forms a unity in itself which
is the principle of evolution reaching its climax in the ideal
of the God-man. At the same time it is the good will as
established in the new dispensation, in the kingdom of God
proclaimed by Christ.

That such is the underlying logic of the doctrine of the

396 THE MONIST.

Trinity can scarcely be doubted, although most arguments
and explanations have been formulated more instinctively
than with clear philosophical insight and logic.

In a certain sense the Christian God-conception is as
much a superpersonal presence in the minds of the people
as were the pagan deities whom it supplanted. But after
all there is in Christianity an aspect of the conception of
God which is higher and which comes to the surface if we
dig down to the bottom rock on which rests this grandest
thought which the religious consciousness of man has been
able to produce. The purpose of the God-conception is to
represent that universal and eternal presence which shapes
existence in its totality and in every detail ; it denotes that
reality in which we live and move and have our being, the
ultimate authority of right and wrong, the standard of
truth and error and the eternal norm of all existence, and
the idea of this omnipresence is a superpersonality in the
highest sense of the word.

Is such a conception a mere illusion, or does it represent
some actuality? And here we will say that the facts of
experience compel us to grant that the religious instinct
of man has assuredly not been misguided on this point.
The formulation of the deity as an individual being, its
personification, its humanization, and the childish notions
connected with it, the idea that God is like ourselves, an
egotistical, vainglorious and imperious person, are super-
stitions which naturally arise in immature minds. But the
underlying truth of it, that there is a norm of existence,
that the nature of right and wrong, truth and error and the
general lawdom of cosmic existence can be definitely de-
termined, cannot be denied, for our very existence as ra-
tional beings, the possibility of science, the actuality of hu-
man reason, the reliability of logical argument, the fact

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 397

that we are ensouled with moral aspirations, the gist of
human life and its significance, bear testimony to it. All
these phenomena, so important in our experience, prove
that there is an eternal norm, and this norm which in our
lives becomes the authority of conduct is God.

In a certain sense God is supernatural, for the world-
order of which we can reconstruct the purely formal fea-
tures in pure mathematics and logic, is the condition not
only of this actual world of ours but of any possible world.
It applies not only to nature as we know it from experience,
but to any possible nature whether it exists in spheres un-
known or merely in dreams. Its validity is without ex-
ception; it does not contradict nature but, in this sense,
it is above nature — it is supernatural.

This supernatural God constitutes a system of norms,
and whenever we try to formulate them in clear rules or
theorems such as those propounded in mathematics, these
eternal norms are seen to be a system, and constitute a
unity so as to be comparable to an organism of which all
parts are organs whose functions are fully understood only
when considered in their cooperation. They are co- and
sub- and superordinated parts, and their significance ap-
pears only when considered in their unity. In this sense
God bears a close resemblance to a person and in this sense
only we may speak of the personality of God, for we must
bear in mind that God is not an individual or a person as
is man. The personality of man is temporal ; the personal-
ity of God is eternal. Man's thoughts are consecutive,
God's thoughts are the truths which neither originate nor
pass away; they are the laws of nature, the determinant
factors of all that happens. The thoughts of man are dis-
cursive phases of reasoning. They are centered around
his ego, and they are subject to error. There is no ego in
God, and his thoughts, being eternal, are infallible, and the
potency of their application is unfailing.

398 THE MONIST.

Man has developed into a person, into a rational being
capable of searching for the truth and following definite
purposes, because the world is dominated by a consistency
of being which mirrors itself as universal law, and in this
sense man, the incarnation of reason, has been shaped by
the world order, and it may fitly be said that he has been
created in the image of God. While man is like unto God
we may in poetic language personify God as if he were like
unto man, but in fact he partakes in no wise of man's limi-
tations ; he bears no features of transient individuality but
is eternal and omnipresent while man is concrete, local,
and transitory.

The difference of God's personality, or rather super-
personality, is not in degree but in kind. As Yahveh, the
God of Israel, says in Isaiah Iv. 8-9, "My thoughts are not
your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways . . . For as
the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways
higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your
thoughts."

There is one more reason why the term superpersonal
can with special propriety be applied to God, and it almost
eclipses all others, and contains all of them. It is this, that
God — the superpersonal God as here described — is the
prototype of all personality. The character of the universe
the constitution of the cosmos, its inmost being and signifi-
cance reveals itself better and more completely in a person
than in any other object of creation, and so we may conclude
with the statement to be interpreted in the light of the fore-
going expositions, that every person in the measure that
he attains the ideal of personality is a revelation of God.

The mystic standpoint in its most modern formulation
is represented by F. Max Miiller, but though it finds ad-
herents to-day among spiritists, theosophists and other rep-

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 399

resentatives of the New Thought movement, it is a well-
established view among many orthodox people, not only of
Christianity but of any religious system of the world. In
truth, it is as old as mankind and was worked out for the
first time by the Vedanta philosophers of ancient India, and
summarized by Shankara Charya. We reject this view in
its extreme formulation and have pointed out that it is
based upon the error of reifying the unity of a compound
thing. The unity of a thing is the combination of its parts,
not a mysterious thing in itself. There is not a metaphys-
ical entity called "wind" who performs the function of
"blowing," who causes the commotion of the air, but this
commotion of the air, the blowing of the wind, is the wind
itself. In the same way the cooperation of all the organs
is the organism. There is not an organism in itself, there
is not a life principle, or a metaphysical self (called atman
by the Vedanta philosopher) which animates the several
organs, but the cooperation of all the organs produces that
organized whole which we call the entire organism. The
organs have originated through a differentiation of func-
tion and in their combination they produce a higher unity.
It is true enough that a unity existed before, for instance
first in the undivided cell, but the higher unity, or generally
stated the gradation of the unity of an organism from a
lower to a higher range, is always a product or an effect,
not a cause ; it is due to the cooperation of its parts. It is
therefore wrong to assume a mysterious entity or a meta-
physical essence which constitutes the unities of things and
assumes a mysterious principle to account for the non-
material interrelations of parts which produce new and
higher unities.

Turning to the other side, we are confronted with a
theory that disregards the significance of pure form and
would accept only materiality as real and significant. The
materialist who in judging of the value of a statue would

4OO THE MONIST.

only take cognizance of the metal of which it is made and
who would measure its worth by taking its weight, dis-
regarding its shape and showing no appreciation for its
beauty, is incapable of seeing that the combination of sev-
eral factors produces a new thing. Three lines crossing
are not three lines but constitute a triangle with all its
wonderful complications with which we become acquainted
as geometry and trigonometry, and the same is true of all
combinations. The whole intellectual world with all its
wonders rises from combinations of very simple and ele-
mentary factors of feelings, and the final result is that
wonderful product which we call personality in which the
eternal laws of being are reflected.

While appreciating the significance of form and formal
laws as developed in pure logic and pure mathematics and
not accepting any mystical theory of the universe, we
nevertheless comprehend the significance of purely formal
laws and understand what mystics mean when they are
overawed by the profundity of the significance of unity, of
that mysterious item which produces new values through
a mere combination of parts. Therfore we deem it not
inappropriate to use the terms of religious conceptions,
such as God, soul, and immortality, but it will be noticed
that all the religious terms thus employed and thus justi-
fied find a rigorously scientific explanation.

We anticipate that the extremists on both sides will be
little satisfied with our methods, but we are confident that
those representatives of either party who see deeper will
join us, and in the propositions here presented they will
find the true solution of an old problem that has vexed man-
kind for millenniums.

Readers somewhat acquainted with the history of phi-
losophy will notice that the treatment of the idea of per-
sonality here attempted constitutes a reconciliation between
the two opposed views, the mystico-religious interpreta-

PERSON AND PERSONALITY. 4<DI

tion of facts, and the rigidly scientific conception, either of
which in its extreme formulation must be regarded as con-
tradictory to the other. We claim that both, if rightly under-
stood, come to the same conclusion, so they are comple-
mentary, the one to the other, and emphasize two truths —
two truths which form a contrast without being contra-
dictory to each other, each of which by itself being one-
sided, and so the two demand each other for the sake of
completeness.

EDITOR.

PSANTERIN ACCORDING TO DANIEL III. 5.

PSANTERIN, a loan word from Greek \lia\nj PLOV,
is found only in Daniel iii. 5, 7, 10, 15, — being the
name of a musical instrument.1 In the following pages
I shall attempt to establish the identity of said musical
instrument, and at the same time trace the history of the
word itself in the course of its wanderings through various
languages, down to the present day.

The Greeks knew of an instrument called \fra\njpiov,
as early as the time of Themistocles.2 It did not, however,
become common among them previous to the widespread
diffusion of Oriental manners and customs, during the later
centuries of their history. Even at that, scattered ref-
erences to it in Greek and Latin documents are few.

1. Plut, Themistocles, 2.

Aeycov art \vpav p,ev apfjiocrao'Ocu, /cat /Ltera^ctpta'aa'^at
\lia\TtjpLOv OVK eTrtcrrarat, TTO\LV Se . . . /AcyaX^i/ aVe/oya<7acr#at.

2. Plut., Antony, 24.

KIT-TON Se /cat Ovpcrw /cat \lta\TV) piav /cat (rvpiyyw /cat
av\ojv rj TrdXts r^v irXe'a, Atovvcrov avrbv avaKaXovpcvuv.

3. Plut, Mor., p. 713 c.

\lfa\rr)piov <j>a)vrj<s /cat avXov /ca#' iavrr^v ra awa /COTT-

lPsanterin, iii, 7, — psanterin, iii, 5, 10, 15, the form with t being correct.
In connection with kitharos (/cWapts) and sumponyah (<ru/t0wp/a), it serves to
determine the date of the book of Daniel, as showing that it must have been
written subsequent to the diffusion of Greek influence and language in the
Orient.

" Plutarch, Themistocles, 2.

PSANTERIN. 403

4. Ibid., p. 827 a.

(sc. 6 /utouort/co?) (rv/x)8ovXa>i
<ranftvKa<s, /cat \lta\rrjpia
Kal rpiyoiva ira/mirc/x^a? TTJV Xvpap Kal r»)i/

5. Varro, a/>. A/on., Ill, 249.

Scientia doceat quern ad modum in psalterio exten-
damus nervias.

6. Cicero, Har. Resp., 21.

P. Clodius, a crocota, a mitra, a muliebribus soleis,
purpureisque fasciolis, a strophio, a psalterio, a flagitio, a
stupro, est factus repente popularis.5

7. Virgil, (Tiro, 177.

Non arguta sonant tenui psalteria chorda.

8. Quint, Inst. Or., I, x, 31.

Apertius .... profitendum puto, non a me praecipi ....
psalteria et spadicas, etiam virginibus probis recusanda.

9. Macr., Sat. II, 10, citing Scipio Africanus.
Docentur (sc. pueri) praestigias inhonestas, cum cinae-

dulis et sambuca, psalterioque eunt in ludum histrionum.

10. Arnobius, VI, p. 209.

Deum mater cum tympano, cum tibiis et psalteriis Mu-
sae.6

* Plato, Rep., p. 399 c :

fpiy&vuv apa /cat irrjuriduv KOI iravruv bpyavuv baa noMxopia Kal irofaxipfidvia, dqju-
ovpyovf oti 6ptil>afiEv . . . Ivpa dij aoi Kal niSapa fa'arerai.

* Of the nature of the pdpfitros, nothing certain is known. The word, ac-
cording to Strabo (X, 471), is foreign. It may be noted that barbut is the
common Persian word for a harp. (Cf. J. Richardson, Dictionary of English,
Persian and Arabic.)

' Cf . Cic., Frag. ap. Non., VI, 98 :

"Tu vero festivus, tu elegans, tu solus urbanus, quem decet muliebris
ornatus, quem incessus psaltriae ..... " The reference is to the sacrilege of
Clodius, who disguised as a music-girl, invaded the sanctuary of the Syrian
Bono Dea. Cf. also Juv., VI, 337.

'In addition, there is an obscure reference in Wisdom, which may here
be cited :

uairep ev •tyahnipiui $86yyoi rov pv6fioi> rb bvofia iiaM&acavci, iravrfoe juvtivra f/xu
. . . (XIX, 18).

404 THE MONIST.

From the above passages may be gathered the follow-
ing facts, concerning the \ba\Tr) piov, as it was known to the
Greeks and Romans from 450 B. C. on.

1. It was a stringed instrument7 (cf. Nos. 4, 5,. 7),
unlike the Greek lyre (cf. Nos. I, 4), played with the
fingers.8

2. It was played in concert with other instruments9
(cf. Nos. 2, 9, 10).

3. It was high-pitched in tone (cf. No. 7).

4. It was played at banquets and revels (cf. Nos. 2, 7,
as is apparent from the context, and 9) by persons of loose
morals10 (cf. Nos. 2, 6, 8, 9).

5. It was held in disrepute (cf. Nos. 3, 4, 6, 8, 9).
Returning for a moment to Dan. iii. 5, etc., it is to

be noted that psanterin is rendered.

LXX. \ffa\TTJpi.ov, Vulg. psalterium, Engl. "psaltery."
Yet elsewhere in the Old Testament, twenty-five times in
all, where LXX has t^aXT^/oiov, the word stands as the
equivalent of the Hebrew nebel.11 Hence the definition of
Hesychius

T Pollux, Onomasticon, IV, 59 :

uv Eidri TUV fiev Kpovofitvuv, M>pa, Ktffdpa, (SdpfitTov, rd J" avrb KOI (JapiijiiTov,
plyuva, aafiftvuai, irquridec, <t>6pjuyyef, <jx>ivii;, airddi

8 Hence its name, from tydhAu. Cf. Suidas, i^aAAo^ew/f • iv/Uo/^v^f. Kvp'n^q 6e
kari ^dAActv TO TUI axpui TUV daKTv^uv TUV %op<5uv airreadat. The word upovu is prop-
erly used of playing on a lyre, the- strings of which were struck with a plectrum,
except when the instrument was used to accompany the voice.

' Cf. Dan. iii. 5, etc., in which are mentioned,

karna, LXX, <r&\iriv£, "trumpet." Cf. Hesychius, — K&pvovr^v ffdXiriyya,

TdXarai.

mashrokitha, LXX fftpiyt, "Pan's pipe."
kitharos, LXX, KiOdpa, "lyre," not "harp."
sabbeka, LXX ffanptiai, a kind of "harp."
psanterin, LXX ^aX-r^pio*-.
sumponyah, LXX, arv^uvia, "bagpipe."

10 Cf. Aur. Viet., Epit., 76 :

"Prohibuit lege, [sc. Theodosius] ministeria lasciva, psaltrias comissa-
tionibus adhiberi."

"An exception in Gen. iv. 21, — oflros %v d Karadfltas ^a.\r^piov (kinnor)
Kal Kiffdpav ('ugab).

PSANTERIN. 405

vdft\a- cISo? opydvov /xov<ri/cov, f) ^aXrTyptoi/, rf KiOdpa,
and of Suidas,

\ltaXnjpLOv opyavov H.OVOTLKOV, 6 KCU vav\a /caXeiTtu,12
wherefore the identity of psanterin and nebel has come
into acceptance as a matter of course. Already in the
seventeenth century, however, it is disputed by Abraham
di Porta Leone, whose definition may be put in evidence:

"Scitote Pesanterin Graece et Latine appellari salte-
rium, et est instrumentum simile scuto quadrato, constans
decem chordis, quibus impositum est lignum vacuum in
quod ingreditur sonitus pulsationis chordarum cuius causa
eius pulsatio procul auditur, et hoc non erat nebel, sicuti
multi putarunt, sed erat instrumentum illo inferius et de-
terms."13

The value of his testimony consists not in that he de-
scribes the probable form of the psanterin, but that he
preserves an evident unrecorded tradition to the effect that
the nebel and the psanterin were different instruments.

So far the evidence goes to show that the Greeks were
acquainted with an instrument called t/iaXr^/nov, the same
word, in the Aramaic psanterin, being known to the author
of the book of Daniel, as the name of a musical instrument
played by one of a band of musicians14 at the court of An-
tiochus Epiphanes,15 whose tastes coincided with those of

"These definitions based on LXX usage, are to be discounted, as of no
value.

u Shilte haggibborim, Ugol. Thes., vol. XXXII, col. Iviii.

"These musicians were no doubt of the class frequently referred to by
Greek and Latin writers — they were a caste apart — of loose morals, who
from the fourth century B. C. became common throughout Greece and Rome,
as public and private entertainers. Cf. Macrobius, Sat. II, i, 5: "Sub illorum
---- supercilio non def uit, qui psaltriam intromitti peteret, ut puella ex in-
dustria supra naturam mollior, canora dulcedine et saltationis lubrico exer-
ceret illecebris philosophantes." Cf. also Livy, XXIX, 6, and Aur. Viet., loc. cit. ;
see note 10. In the Orient to-day is a similar class; with few exceptions,
all are Gypsies, as the Luri of Egypt

" It cannot be merely a coincidence that the bagpipe, referred to in Dan.
iii. 5, etc., should be twice mentioned by Polybius (XXVI, i; XXX, 26) as
a favorite instrument with Antiochus.

406 THE MONIST.

the decadent Orientalized Greeks of his day16 and were
pronouncedly anti-Semitic.17 There is no evidence what-
ever to show that it was the same as the nebel of the He-
brews.18 The limit of inaccuracy is reached by Winer,
whose definition may be cited as a curiosity:

"Psanterin oder psanterin, (Gesen., Thes. II, 116 et
seq., Dan. iii. 5 ff., griech. ^aXr^/oto^) welches Wort im
engern und bestimmtern Sinne ein citherahnliches Instru-
ment (Lamprid., Al. Sever., 27) bezeichnet, das mit bei-
den Handen gespielt wurde und /otayaSi? hiess. (Athen.,
14, 636).""

The first reference is false, — neither ^a\.TT/jpLov nor psal-
terium is anywhere mentioned by Lampridius.20 Athe-

18 Cf. Tacitus, Hist., V, 8 : "Rex Antiochus, demere superstitionem et mores
Graecorum dare adnisus, quo minus teterrimam gentem in melius mutaret,
Parthorum bello prohibitus est"

"His attitude in persecuting the Jews was not because of their religion,
but because they would not submit to Hellenizing influences.

u The word nebel passed into Greek, v&p\a, vavXa, first used by Sophocles
(Frag. 760; ap. Plut., Mor., 394 &).

ov vavha KUKvrolaiv, oi> hiipa <j>i?M,

and Latin nablium, naula. Originally it seems to have been applied to a wind
instrument :

H6aui 6e upeirTov, u Qvhiriavc ffo^wrare, TO v8pa.vfaK.6v TOVTO bpyavov TOV nahovftevov
wz/JAa, bv Qqai SwTrarpof 6 TrapuiSog kv rut Eiri-ypa<f>u[i£vui 6pdfj.aTi ndAat, boiviituv elvai /cat
TOVTUV evpq/jia. 7&yei <5' ovruq . . . kv MVOTOKOV 6e Qrjriui . . .

vdfihaf EV apdpoiq ypafifiaruv OVK. evfieTi^^
ui >Wrof kv irhevpoiaiv di/w^oc Trayetf ,
ifiirvaw aviei povaav. (Ath. Deipn., p. 175 c.)

Yet in the Old Testament it is always the name of one of the two common
stringed instruments of the Jews, the other being kinnor. Cf. the testimony
of Josephus:

r] fj.lv Kivwpa (cf. LXX, Sam. xvi, 23, kinnor, Kivvpa) 6ena ^o/wJaZf it-j}/j.fi£vq, TVIT-
Terai ir^KTpui, r] 6e vafiha., 6&6ena (f>66yyov<; exovaa> T0~l£ daKTvhoie upoverai. (Ant. lud.,
VII, 12, 3.)

The statement of Ovid is equally accurate :

"Disce etiam duplici genialia nablia palma
Vellere, conveniunt dulcibus ilia modis." (Ars. Am., Ill, 327.)
It is not to be supposed that the nebel of Josephus's time differed from the
ten-stringed nebel of Ps. xxxiii. 22, in other way than in the number of strings.

" G. B. Winer, Biblisches Realworterbuch, Vol. II, p. 123.
"Lampridius, Alexander Severus, 26: "Lyra, tibia, organo cecinit."

PSANTERIN. 407

naeus, who is misunderstood and misinterpreted by Winer,
gives testimony concerning ^a.\r^piov and /nayaSi?, in the
form of citations from various authors whose works have
perished. These are important, and may here be exam-
ined.

Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae, p. 183 c.

TO 8e \lia\TTJpLoV) a!? (fryo-iv *Io/8as,21 'AXe'^ai/Spo? 6 Kv^pto?
crvveir\T]pa)cre ^opSatg KCU eyyTf/ocuras rfjt, 'E<^€<rta»v TroXet <y?
<ro<£aVaToi> rfj<; eavrov Te^i/^?, rovrl TO €vpr)iJ,a aveffijice iv
ApTC/uSos- fjusr)p,ov€vei 8' 6 'lo/Sas /cat TOV \vpofyoiviKos KOI
TOV eViyoi>€iov, 6 vvV ets t/faXr^/Hoi/ opQiov /LteTacr^jLtaTKr^ei/,
8ia<ra>i£ei r^ TOV •^prja'afjievov 7rpoa"rjyopiav.

Ibid., p. 636 /.

S'22 ev r»Jt Trpo? ri)z/ ' A/oiaroKXeovs 67rtcrroX^v
6 i/vi> <>rO'LV Txei? Xe'oACi/ tfaXrroioi/ TOVT

The most important point in connection with the above
citations is the tacit reference to the manner in which the
\l/a\njpiov was played, the linyoveiov being described as
\lta\nj PLOV opBiovj2* i. e., the tyaXrripiov played in a vertical
position as distinguished from the usual form, the \JJCL\TTJ piov
played in a horizontal position. Concerning the

* King Juba of Mauretania died about A. D. 19.

* Apollodorus, the celebrated grammarian, about B. C 140.

* VaXTJipiov is here used in an extended sense, not, as Winer supposes, in
a restricted sense, as a synonym of n&ya8u. In time, as extension of meaning
progressed, the word came to be loosely used of any stringed instrument In
the matter of semasiology, the history of aviufxavla and its derivatives in the
Romance languages offers an interesting parallel.

"J. D. Prince, Encyclopaedia Biblica, s. v. "Music," col. 3235, writes:
"Varro's name for the nebel-psaltery, ortho-psallium, erect stringed instrument,
shows plainly that it could not have been a lyre, which was played in an ob-
lique or horizontal position." The passage referred to is the following:
"Neque orthopsalticium attulit psalterium,
Quibus sonant in Graecia dicteria. ("Ovot Mpas)."

The reference is not to a musical instrument, but to a coarse lampoon called
by the same name. ("Psalterium quod vulgo dicitur canticum, in alterius in-
famiam, compositum, et publice cantatum." Paulus, V, Sent 4.) For ortho-
psalticium, should be read orthophallicutn, the certain emendation of Junius.

408 THE MONIST.

a few words may be said. The name is of foreign origin,25
as indeed, according to Aristoxenus,26 the instrument was
acknowledged to be. As to its identity citations from var-
ious authors are given by Athenaeus.27
Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae, p. 634 c.
6 p,€i> yo>p TyStoTO? 'A.vaKp€<av Aeyet, TTOV,

\}td\\(t) 8* etKOcrt ^o^oSatcrt /xa-yaSiv fycw.
Ibid., p. 635 a.

EiN^optftH/ Se iv roil irepl 'Icrfyuaw,28 TraXatoi/ /neV <£i7<n TO
opyavov eu/ai r^v /aayaStv, /u.eTacnceuao'^jyi'cu 8' 6t/»e' TTOTC, KCU

/&«/., p. 635

* Strabo, X, 471 :

K<u TWV bpydvuv ivta /3ao/3dpwf wvd/uaarat, v
d<f xat

16 'Apiar6^evof ff 1/c^vAa bpyava Kakel tjioiviKaf /cat jny/crtdaf , «at /iayd(J/<5af,
re /cat rpiyuva nai K^eipidfiftovf KO.I anivdaipov^ ical TO ewed^opdov Katobfievov. (Ath.
Deipn., p. i8z/.)

27 An archaic wind instrument, giving forth two sounds at once, not un-
likely a primitive form of bagpipe, called ftdyaSist is referred to by Athenaeus,
Deipn., p. 182 d :

6 6e [idyadif avUbf natovftevof, 6 not irahaiopd'yadif ovofia^dfievof, tv ravrui bt-vv KOI
ftapvv <j>86yyov kirtdeiKwrat, uf Avat-avdpidr/s ev 'OTrAo^d^wt tyoiv.
fj.dya.6i "haMjau fUKpbv d/Lia aoi KOI [iiya.

Elsewhere he attempts to show that no such instrument existed. The fact re-
mains, however, that a rude bagpipe-like instrument, made of a gourd, into
which are inserted three pipes, a chanter and two drones, is played upon by
snake charmers of Ceylon, and called by them magoudi,

28 Euphorion, an epic poet, born 274 B. C.

28 Suidas fa/i/Sv/n;, lappticn, <rajtt/3i5/c?7, according to Strabo (note 25) a loan-
word in Greek. Also in Aramaic, in the form sabbeka, with w, (cf. Dan. iii. 5, etc.,
LXX <ra/t/3i5/cij, Vulg. sambuca). Of the instrument itself, the following is
known:

Tlepl aanfivKiis e<f>?j 6 Maaavpiof bj-ixftfoyyov elvat bpyavov TTJV aafi^vtajv . . . xp^l^ai
Qfaas avT&i Hdpdow; nal T/wjyAodvraf, Terpa^pdui bvri. (Ath. Deipn. p. 633_/'.)

T^v 6e aafj.flvK.riv . . . fierd noXhtjq b^vrijTOf did rtfv lunpdrtfra TUV %op6uv . . . (Aristides
Quintilianus, p. 101, Meibom.)

Sambuca triangulum instrumentum est, quod ex inaequalibus longitudine
et crassitudine nervis efficitur. (Porph., in Ptol. Harm, ap. Forcellini, s. v.
"sambuca.") It was most probably a very small triangular harp. In the fourth
century B. C. it was introduced into Greece by professionals from the East, —
later into Rome. (Cf. Livy, XXXIX, 6.)

PSANTERIN. 409

S'30 cV TOIS TTf.pl Te^l/tTWV, T7)z> TTTJ/CTlSa, T)|/

eu>at rqt /xaydStSt, SaTJX^w <j>rj(Tiv eupetv.31 'Aptcrr
rr)^ /AayaStz/ /cat r^v Trrj/crt'Sa ^copt? ir\iJKrpov Sta t//aX/xot)
rrjv ^peLav^ StoVe/a /cat HtVSa/DCH/ etpTy/ceVat eV rait
7T/30S 'lepotvi cr/coXuut, T7)v /u,dya8ti> oVo^tcuraira |i//aX/xoi' dirt-
fydoyyov, Sta TO Sta 8vo y€V(ov a/^a /cat Sta Tratroiv «X€tv 7^7 v
(rvvtutStav dvSpatv re /cat TratSwv.32

It appears from the above that the ftayaSts, the Greek
name of which was THJ/CTI'S, was a peculiar instrument,
played with the fingers only, having- twenty strings, tuned
in parallel octaves. It is probable, however, that only ten
were picked, the remainder acting as sympathetic strings.
The following reference seems clearly to support this view :
6 7ra/3a>i86s, ei> Tijt €TTLypa<j>O[jiev(i)i Mvara/cov (ybj
3 eli/at ^ert TT)V Trrj/crtSa, Xeyans ovrtog, —

* Menaechmius of Secyon, according to Suidas, lived in the time of the
successors of Alexander.

S1 Hj/KTtf <J£ /cat fjiayadif ravrov, Kada (pr/alv 6 'Apiord^evof nai Mevaixjuof 6 "Zixvaviof
ev Totf irepl Tc^v/rwv. (Ath. Deipn. p. 635 e.)

** Cf. naya&iSeiv, of men and boys singing the same melody.

83 Cf. Hesychius, — m/Krif — iravdovpiov, ^aMjpiov, avpiyl-, bpyavav.

The lexicographer, having this citation in mind, misunderstood the epithet
5i'x°P5os, in identifying the instrument with the iravdovpiov. Of the latter instru-
ment the following is known:

Tpixopdov, birep 'Aaavptoi iravdovpav av6/M$ov. (Pollux, IV, 61.)

Tld)ay6paf be, 6 yeypo^uf irepl rfjg kpvdpas 6a/Maai)s, roi)f T/awyAodtraf <f>rfai KaToonev-
&$eiv rf/v naviwpav in rrj^ ev riji Bahaaarii <j>vofievq$ dou/wyc. (Ath. Deipn., IV, p. 183.)

The word itself, found in Greek in the forms wav&ovpior, vavoovpa, <f>di>-
dovpos, survives in the following derivatives:

Ital., pandora, mandola, mandolina. (Cf. Mod. Greek, nav8u\li>or.)

Span., mandora, bandurria.

Cat., bandoli.

Port., bandurra.

Prov., mandola, mandoulino.

Roum., pandora, mandora, mandola.

Engl., pandore, bandore, banjo, mandolin.

It is applied to a variety of instruments based on the principle of the mono-
chord, — lute, guitar, mandolin, etc. The principle was known to the Greeks, —
ignorant persons called the monochord <t>&v&ovpos. (Nic. Ench., p. 243, Jan.)
Representations of a lute-like instrument appear in late Greek sculpture (cf.
Theodore Reinach, "La guitarre dans 1'art grec," in Rev. des Et. Gr., VIII,
p. 374)- This is most probably the

4IO THE MONIST.

8e Movo"f)i

That the juayaSi? should have been confounded with
two instruments so evidently different, from each other
at least, as the ^aXrifptov and the o-a/a/SvKT?,35 is a fact to be
traced to the existence of some feature common to all
these exotic instruments, which would attract the attention
of the casual observer.

The Greek national instrument was the lyre. Harps of
several types were introduced from the East as early as
the fifth century B. C.,36 by professional musicians,37 and
met with favor among the fashionable classes, though dis-
liked by Plato38 and indeed by all philosophers and teachers
of Greek music. From its name it is evident that the
\jja\TTJpLov was played with the fingers only, as were
also the /otayaSt? or Tnj/cns, the i>a/JA.a, the rplywov, and
probably the (rapfivKr). In view of this fact it is clear that

** Ath. Deipn., p. 183 b.

85 In Dan. iii. 5, etc., they are mentioned together, — karna, mashrokitha,
kitharos, sabbeka, psanterin, sumponyah.

**The word for "harp" among the ancient Greeks was rpiyuvov, men-
tioned by Plato, Rep. 399 c). Concerning this instrument, the following facts
are worthy of record here :

Kat TO rpiyuvov 6e nahobfievov bpyavov 'I(5/3af iv rerdprui dearpiKrjf iaropiaf, Evpuv
evprjpa <f>i)aiv elvai .... 'AMt-avfipof 6e 6 Tro/Ur^f /MW .... dij/j.ooiai i-Kideit-afixvoq iv rui

bpyavui, oi/rwf eTroirjae navrag Pufiaiovf fjavao/iiavEtv, «
iieiv avrov rd Kpovafiara. (Ath. Deipn., p. 175 d; 183 e.)

01 ye rol irafauol TO rpiyuvov ef aviauv rotf fir/idai ;^op<5<uv k-rroiriaav,
iraaav iS-uraTu, virodeearepas 6e Tavrr/f r^f irT^aiov, ruv J" ITI evfiortpuv nal irpos rijc yuviai
TOV opyavov KaBqpevuv KoTwfl&Tepov rolg [iT)K.£aiv. (Ptol. Harm., p. 216.) Cf. also Aristo-
tle, Probl. XIX, 23, — £rl KOI kv rotf rpiyuvoif (ipahTrqpioic) rfiq iaijt; kiriratjeuq yivofitvris,
ffv/j.<j)uvovai did iraauv, rj fiev 6nr?Maia. ovaa, f] 6e faiaeia rut firfnei. The word ^a^,r?)pioif is
a gloss, and should be stricken from the text.

37 ~Ev(j)opiuv d£ 6 knoiroL6<;, kv TUL Trepl 'ladfiiw, ol vvv, <p?iaiv, KaXoijfisvoL va^iarai, Kal
TravdovpiaTcu, Kal aa/jffvKiaral, aaivui fj£v ovdevi xP<>>VTai bpydvui .... rrjv fj.dya6iv Kal rd
rpiyuva, Kal rdf aajufibKac; dpxala elvai .... (Ath. Deipn., p. 182 e.)

88 Cf. Plato, Rep. 399 c:

rpiy&vuv apa /cat n-^Kriduv Kal travruv bpyavuv baa irohvxop6a Kal Trohvappdvia, 6j/u*-
ovpyavf ov dpeipujtev .... Twpa 6^, Kal Kiddpa ooi faineTat.

Plato's Greek exclusiveness, together with the evil reputation of Oriental
musicians, partly explains the Greek dislike of the harp.

PSANTERIN. 411

the confusion of names is a simple matter of semasiology,
— the least definite name, tyaXrripiov, following1 the law of
extension of meaning, became applied indiscriminately to
a number of stringed instruments of the harp-type. Ac-
cordingly in the LXX, i/»aXn?pioi', though not an exact
equivalent, was used to render nebel.39 It is to be noted,
however, that St. Jerome, who usually follows the LXX,
sometimes, instead of psalterium, retains nablum.40

As was the case with Ktfla/ai?41 and o-v/K^oWa, the word
$a\TTJpiov has wandered far, passing at an early date
eastward into Aramaic, and westward into Latin. To-day
it is widely current, appearing in different languages in
many different forms, as the name of both the psaltery
and the dulcimer. The following table will give an idea
of the extent of its migrations:
Greek, $a\njpLov. n\ 3

Aramaic, psanterin, Syriac, santir.

Arabic, santir, santur.
Pers., santir, santur,
Armen., santur,

Modern Greek, crai/reop,42
Turk., santur,

Albanian, samtur.43
Bulgarian, santyra.

** The definitions of the Church Fathers, both Greek and Latin, of ^a\-
Tfipiov and psalterium, are to be discounted, as referring not to the Greek
f a\Ti)p«M», but to the Hebrew nebel.

48 As in I Paral., XV, 16, 20. Cf. Pseudo-Mamotrectus, ad I Paral, XIII,
8 : "Psalterium dicitur canora cythara decem chordarum coaptata, quae plectro
percutitur, nablum vero duodecim sonos habens, digitis tangitur." The com-
mentator had in mind the medieval psaltery, and understood nebel, (nablum)
as the name of a harp.

"Pers., sitar; Germ., Zither-, Ital., cetera; Engl., guitar.

**For this fact I am indebted to Mr. A. T. Sinclair, author of Gypsy and
Oriental Musical Instruments.

** G. Meyer Etymologisches Worterbuch der albanesischen Sprache : "Sam-
tur,— ein Saiteninstrument, decacordo."

412 THE MONIST.

Latin, psalterium, Ital., salterio,

Span., salterio,44
Cat, salteri,
Port., salterio,
Prov., psalteri, psautier,

salteri, sauteri, sautiri,
O. Fr.,psaltere, saltere,
sautere, sauterie,45

Old Engl., sawtrie,46
Engl., psaltery.

In conclusion, it may be said that the evidence of the
Greek and Latin writers, as has been shown, points toward
the identification of the \j)a\r>jpLov and psalterium, as a
kind of horizontal harp, a primitive ancestor of the instru-
ments to-day called by names which are derivatives of the
Greek word \lta\TijpLov.*7 The modern psaltery and dul-
cimer48 represent the results of technical and structural
evolution49 along different lines, from the simple primitive
instrument, — the final stage in the course of evolution be-
ing the harpsichord and the piano.

44 The psaltery is pictured twice in the I3th century Spanish manuscript,
Loores et Milagros de Nuestra Senora. See Juan F. Riano, Notes on Early
Spanish Music, pp. 112, 118.

48 Now extinct, — the modern word is psalterion.

48 Chaucer, "The Miller's Tale" :

"And all above ther lay a gay sawtrie,
On which he made on nightes melodic."

47 In the East, generally of the dulcimer, the psaltery being called kanun.
In the West, generally of the psaltery, the dulcimer having various local names :
Ital., cembalo; Fr., tympanon; Ger., Hackebrett; Hung., czimbalom.

48 Grove, Dictionary of Music, s. v. "dulcimer" : "These instruments were
so nearly alike, that one description might serve for both, were it not for the
different manner of playing them, — the strings of the dulcimer being set in
vibration by small hammers held in the hands, while in the psaltery the sounds
were produced by plectra of ivory, metal or quill, or even the fingers of the
performer."

49 How early this evolution began is not known. The Assyrians had the
dulcimer, but there is no evidence that Hebrew or Greek of ancient times
had it.

PSANTERIN. 413

Accordingly the rendering of the English A. V., in
Dan. iii. 5, 7, 10, 15, namely, psanterin: "psaltery," is to be
retained. The first passage then should read:

"That at what time ye hear the sound of the trumpet,
pipe, lyre,s° harp, psaltery, bagpipe and all kinds of music,
ye fall down and worship the golden image . . . . "

Elsewhere in the Old Testament, as in I Chron. xiii. 8,
where the Hebrew word is nebel, the rendering "psaltery"
of the English A. V. is to be replaced by "harp."51

PHILLIPS BARRY, M.A.
BOSTON, MASS.

* Kitharos, iclOapit, is used in Dan. iii. 5, etc., of the Greek lyre.

n Similarly, "lyre" should be read in place of English A. V., "harp," —
standing for the Hebrew kinnor, as in I Sam. xvi. 23.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD.

WE have noticed two sentences which are handed
down in the Talmud as sayings of Jesus. One at
least is expressly quoted as a saying of Jesus. We refer
to the section, headed "Jacob the Teacher." It must be
surprising that in such a bulky work as the Talmud, no
more should be found. Thus it may seem. But it is not
so. There are numerous sentences in the Talmud which
are ascribed to Jewish authorities, but which belong to
Jesus. This, Jewish writers will not admit. They claim,
and with them writers like Renan, that the Talmud or the
rabbis were copied by Jesus. Said Renan (Life of Jesus,
p. 108) : "It is sometimes supposed that the compilation of
the Talmud being posterior to that of the Gospels, appro-
priations might have been made by the Jewish compilers
from the Christian morality. But that is inadmissible."
That Renan is mistaken, we shall see. A better authority
than the French writer is the late Dunlap Moore, for many
years a missionary among the Jews. In his article "Tal-
mud" in the Schaff-Herzog Encyclop. he says: "It is ad-
mitted that the Talmud has borrowed from the neighbors
of the Babylonian Jews superstitious views and practices
notoriously contrary to the spirit of Judaism. Why, then,
may it not have appropriated Christian sentiments too?"
Canon Farrar in Life of Christ, II, 485 says : "Some ex-
cellent maxims — even some close parallels to the utterances
of Christ — may be quoted, of course from the Talmud,

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 415

where they lie embedded like pearls in a sea of obscurity
and mud. It seems to me indisputable that these are amaz-
ing few, considering the vast bulk of national literature
from which they are drawn. And, after all, who shall
prove to us that these sayings were always uttered by the
rabbis to whom they are attributed? Who will supply us
with the faintest approach of a proof that (when not
founded on the Old Testament) they were not directly or
indirectly due to Christian influence or Christian thought ?"
Wellhausen (Israelitische und jiidische Geschichte, 1894,
p. 37 note) remarks : "The Jewish scholars think that every-
thing that Jesus said is also in the Talmud. Yea, every-
thing and still more. How was he able to find out the true
and eternal from this rubbish of scribism? Why did no
one else do it ? And is it certain when a saying is ascribed
in the Talmud to Rabbi Hillel, that the Talmud is right?
Could not a Gospel word have found its way into the Tal-
mud and sail there under false colors? That the Talmud
is mainly founded upon oral tradition is a mere supersti-
tion ; it is based on literature and refers to literature."

We must not overlook the fact that Jesus preached to
the multitudes wherever the opportunity was offered, and
it was very natural, not only that his fame spread every-
where, but also that those who heard him spread his say-
ings, so that they became the common property of all. Not
so the Talmudic sage and proud Pharisee, who never min-
gled with those who were outside of his circle. Nor must it
be forgotten, that the number of those who followed Jesus
was not so small as is generally believed; it is estimated
too low, because the followers are so grouped together that
their individual numbers do not attract our notice. But
with the New Testament in our hand, we find a different
result. It is therefore but natural to assume that believing
Christians were the means of spreading, if not the Gospels
as such, at least the sayings of Jesus. But the Gospels were

416 THE MONIST.

circulated at a very early period, as we learn from the
enactments of the rabbis against them.

At the time that the rules for keeping the Sabbath were
under consideration, it was asked in the schools whether,
if the Gospels and other books of the Christians should
happen to fall into the fire, it would be permissible to rescue
them from the fire, inasmuch as the name of God was
written in them and they contained numerous quotations
from the Old Testament. "The Gospels and the other
books of the Christians are not to be rescued from the
fire;" such is the verdict (Shabbath, fol. 116, col.i); and
Rabbi Aqiba, who hailed Barcochba as the Messiah, laid
it down as an injunction that whosoever read in outside
books, i. e., books of the Christians, has no portion in the
world to come (Sanhedrin, fol. 100, col. 2).

All this proves that the Gospels were in circulation;
otherwise we can not understand the precautions against
them. Such being the case, we can also understand the
origin of the sayings in the Talmud which are generally ad-
duced as proof that the New Testament borrowed from the
Talmud.

That the Gospels were read by the sages of Israel is
also corroborated by the fact that Hillel II, a descendant
of the famous Hillel, was secretly baptized on his death-
bed by a bishop. This statement is made by Epiphanius
(Haeres. C. XXX), himself a convert from Judaism, on
the authority of Joseph, Hillel's physician, who was a wit-
ness to the scene by which he was strongly impressed. The
house of Hillel, or Ellel as Epiphanius writes, was kept
closely shut after his death by his suspicious countrymen
at Tiberias. Joseph obtained entrance and found the Gos-
pel of St. John, the Gospel of St. Matthew, and the Acts
in a Hebrew translation. He read, believed, and was pub-
licly baptized; he rose high in the favor of Constantine,
attaining the dignity of Count of the Empire. Burning

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 417

with zeal, he turned all his thoughts to the establishment
of Christian churches in the great Jewish cities. Joseph,
who endured much from the Jews and the Arians, is com-
memorated in the Roman Martyrology as a confessor on
July 22.

Renan's notion found a supporter in the Jewish writer
E. Deutsch of the British Museum, who makes the follow-
ing statement in his article on "The Talmud" published in
The Quarterly Review (October 1867) : "We need not
urge the priority of the Talmud to the New Testament . . .
To assume that the Talmud borrowed from the New Testa-
ment would be like assuming that Sanscrit sprang from
Latin, or that French was developed from the Norman
words found in English."

All this sounds very nice, and so do many other things
which Deutsch tells his readers in that article on "The
Talmud."1 But how it is possible that sayings attributed
in the Talmud to rabbis who lived a long time after Jesus
should have been borrowed by the latter, these Jewish
writers do not explain. These writers pay no attention to
the name of the author to whom a saying is attributed, or
the time in which he lived. They are satisfied with the
mere fact that it is in the Talmud. We shall not follow
this bad example. From the date added to each rabbi's
name, the impartial reader will be enabled to judge whether
Jesus borrowed from the Talmud, or vice versa.

As the "Sermon on the Mount" is regarded as the most
ethical part of the New Testament we will quote it with
the so-called Talmudic parallels.

i. Jesus: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. v. 3).

Rabbi Levitas of Jabneh (2d cent.): "Ever be more

*For a refutation of Deutsch's assertion, see my article "Talmud" in
McClintock and Strong's Cyclop.

4l8 THE MONIST.

and more lowly in spirit, since the expectancy of man is
to become the food of worms" (Aboth 4, 4).

This saying, Edersheim (Life and Times of Jesus, I, p.
532) says, is exactly opposite in spirit, marking not the
optimism, but the pessimism of life.

Rabbi Joshua ben Levi (A. D. 219-279) : "Behold how
acceptable before the Lord are the humble. While the
temple stood, meat-offering and sacrifices were offered in
expiation for sins committed; but a humble spirit, such a
one as immolates the desires of the flesh and the inclination
of the heart on the altar of his duty to his God, is acceptable
in place of sacrifices, as the Psalmist says (Ps. li. 19):
The sacrifices of God are a broken heart. (Sanhedrin,
fol. 43, col. 2.)

But nothing is said of "the kingdom of heaven," which
Christ promised to all men ! The contrast is too great to
believe that the teaching of Jesus was derived from Jewish
sources. And, says Edersheim: "It is the same sad self-
righteousness and utter carnalness of view which under-
lies the other Rabbinic parallels to the Beatitudes, pointing
to contrast rather than likeness. Thus the Rabbinic bles-
sedness of mourning consists in this, that much misery
here makes up for punishment hereafter (Erubin, fol. 41,
col. i). We scarcely wonder that no Rabbinic parallels
can be found to the third Beatitude, nor to the fourth, to
those who hunger and thirst after righteousness."

2. Jesus: "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall ob-
tain mercy" (Matt. v. 7).

Beribbi (3d cent.) : "He who is merciful toward his
fellow creatures shall receive mercy from heaven above;
but he who is unmerciful toward his fellow creatures shall
find no mercy in heaven" (Shabbath, fol. 151, col. 2).

3. Jesus: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for
righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven"
(Matt. v. 10).

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 419

Rabbi Abahu (A. D. 279-310) : "Be rather one of the
persecuted than of the persecutors" (Baba Kamma, fol.
93, col. i).

4. Jesus: "Whosoever shall break one of these least
commandments, and shall teach," etc. (Matt. v. 19).

Rabbi (A. D. 190) : "Be equally attentive to the light
and to the weighty commandments" (Aboth 2, i).

Ben Azdi (about 100-130 A. D.) : "Be prompt in the
performance even of a light precept" (ibid. 4, 2).

The rabbis were in the habit of making a distinction in
the commandments, between such as they called light and
others which they charcterized as weighty. Jesus viewing
the law of Moses in its whole extent, recognized this dis-
tinction, though differing entirely from the rabbis as to
what constituted the lighter and what the weightier com-
mandments : "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypo-
crites ! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise, and cummin ; and
have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment,
mercy, and faith. These ought ye to have done, and not
to leave the other undone" (Matt, xxiii. 23).

5. Jesus: "But I say unto you, that whosoever is angry
with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the
judgment," etc. (Matt. v. 29).

Resh Lakesh (A. D. 212-280) : "Whosoever lifts up
his hand against his neighbor, though he do not strike
him, is called an offender and sinner" (Sanhedrin, fol.
98, col. i ) .

6. Jesus : "Leave thy gifts before the altar, and go thy
way; first be reconciled," etc. (Matt. v. 24).

Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah (about 100 A. D.) : "The
transgression which a man commits against God, the Day
of Atonement expiates; but the transgression which he
commits against his neighbor, it does not expiate, unless
he has satisfied his neighbor" (Yoma, VIII, 2).

7. Jesus : "But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh

42O THE MONIST.

on a woman to lust after her, committeth adultery," etc.
(Matt. v. 28).

Rabbi Shesheth (A. D. 285) : "Whosoever looketh on
the little finger of a woman with a lustful eye is considered
as having committed adultery" ( Berachoth, f ol. 24, col. I ) .

8. Jesus: "But let your communication be Yea, yea;
Nay, nay" (Matt. v. 37).

Rabbi Jose berabbi Jehudah (A. D. 100-170) explains:
"What is the meaning of Lev. xix. 36 'just balances, just
weights, a just ephah, and a just hin,' since a hin was in-
cluded in the ephah? To teach that your yea be yea, and
your nay be just." Abbaye (died 338 A. D.) says: "This
means that one should not say one thing with the mouth
and another with the heart" ( Baba Mezia, f ol. 49, col. I ) .

Every right-minded person will subscribe to Abbaye's
dictum, but theory is one thing and practice another. At
a meeting held at Lydda and presided over by Aqiba and
Tarphon, decrees were enacted that a man might break the
law in all points save those of idolatry, incest and murder,
in order to save his life. But even on these three points
some latitude was given, and Rabbi Ishmael declared it
lawful in cases of extreme necessity even to simulate com-
pliance with heathen practices. In this way was system-
atized the principle of mental reservation, which enabled
a man to take an oath which he never meant to keep. As
an instance the Talmud ( Yoma, fol. 84, col. i ; also Aboda
Zara, fol. 28, col. i) tells us with great complacency the
following story of Rabbi Jochanan : "He went to a woman
to be cured of a toothache. He saw her on Thursday and
Friday. Then he said, 'What shall I do to-morrow' (for
he had to preach) ? She said, 'You won't want it' (i. e., the
remedy). He: 'But suppose I do want it?' She: 'I will
tell you the secret if you swear not to reveal.' Then he
swore, 'Lalaha of Israel I will not reveal it' (this she could
only understand to mean : 'By the God of Israel, I will not

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 421

reveal it'). Then she told the secret, and the next day he
revealed it to the congregation. But how could this be?
since he had sworn her an oath ? He had sworn Lalaha of
Israel — i. e., 'To the God of Israel I will not reveal it, but
I will reveal it to the congregation of Israel." But was
not this profaning the name of God (inasmuch as she
would think he had committed perjury) ? No, for he told
her at once (i. e., when he had got the recipe he told her that
he had sworn lalaha, not balaha, and the oath would not
hold)."

Of Rabbi Aqiba a like instance is narrated (Kalla, fol.
1 8, col. 2) with the remark that he swore with his lips, but
made the oath void in his heart (see above I C, 2).

9. Jesus: "And if any man will sue thee at the law,
and take away thy coat, let him have the cloak also" (Matt,
v. 40).

Rabba (A. D. 320-363) to Rabba the son of Mar:
"How is that popular saying: If any one ask for thy ass,
give him the saddle also?" (Baba Kamma, fol. 92, col. 2).

10. Jesus:. "Bless them that curse you" (Matt. v. 44).
Rabbi Jehudah (A. D. 120) : "Be rather of the accursed

than of those that curse" ( Sanhedrin, fol. 98, col. 2 ; 99,
col. i).

11. Jesus: "Take heed that ye do not your alms before
men, to be seen of them" (Matt. vi. i).

Rabbi Yanai (A. D. 120) to a man who gave alms in
such a public manner : "You had better not give him any-
thing; in the way you gave it to him you must have hurt
his feelings" (Chagiga, fol. 5, col. i).

12. Jesus: "Our Father which art in heaven" (Matt,
vi. 6).

This expression which is found twice* in the Mishna
(Yoma 8, 9 and Sotah 9, 15) is certainly taken from the

1 Or rather once, viz., Sotah, 9, 15, for in the other passage we read : "Your
father which is in heaven."

422 THE MONIST.

New Testament, since the two rabbis who use this phrase
lived after the destruction of the Temple.

As to the Lord's Prayer in general, Geikie (Life and
Words of Christ, II, p. 619) states that Gfroerer, who took
special pains to search for the Lord's Prayer in the Tal-
mud, found that it could not be traced in any measure to
older Jewish sources."

Edersheim (loc. cit., I, p. 536) says: "It would be folly
to deny that the Lord's Prayer, in its sublime spirit, ten-
dency, combination and succession of petitions is unique;
and that such expressions in it as 'Our Father/ 'the king-
dom,' 'forgiveness,' 'temptation/ and others, represent in
rabbinism something entirely different from that which
our Lord had in view."

The Jewish writer Hamburger in his Real-Encyclopd-
die fur Bibel und Talmud (3d suppl., Leipsic, 1892, ar-
ticle "Evangelien," i. e., Gospels, p. 54), says: "Each (!)
sentence of this prayer (i. e., the Lord's Prayer) occurs
in the prayers and teachings of the Jewish teachers in the
Talmud, so that the entire ( !) prayer has its home on the
soil of Judaism."

Hamburger overlooks the fact that prayers which are
mentioned in the Talmud are not only later than the time
of Jesus, but even aside from this, are vastly different from
the petitions which Jesus taught. The Mishna, the oldest
part of the Talmud, it is true, mentions the so-called Shema,
which every Israelite was to repeat morning and evening.
This Shema, i. e., "Hear, O Israel," which is made a kind
of confession of faith, consists of the Pentateuch passages
Deut. vi. 4-9; xi. 13-21 ; Num. xv. 37-41. Strange to say,
though this prayer is taken from the Bible, yet women,
slaves and children were not obliged to recite it (Mishna
Berachoth, 3, 3). As to the other prayer, the prayer, or
the Shemoneh Esreh,s i. e., Eighteen Eulogies or Bene-

1 See my article "Shemoneh Esreh" in McClintock and Strong's Cyclop.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 423

dictions, it belongs according to its present form to the
time between 70-100 A. D., though it contains elements
much older.

We are aware that there is an entire Talmudic treatise
especially devoted to the subject of prayer, namely, the
first of the Talmud, entitled "Berachoth." In this the
exact position, the degree of inclination, and other trivial-
ities, not referred to by Christ, are dwelt upon at length
as of primary importance. In the same treatise we have
also a number of prayers by different rabbis. Let any
one take up this treatise, either in the German translation
of Pinner or Goldschmidt, or in the French translation of
Schwab, and he will find none which can compare with the
Lord's Prayer. Take as an illustration the following:
"Rab Shesheth [toward the end of the third century A. D.]
when he had fasted, prayed: 'Lord of the world, it is evi-
dent before thee, that at the time that the sanctuary stood,
a man sinned and brought an offering; nor did they offer
of it any thing but its fat and its blood, and he was for-
given. And now I have continued fasting, and my fat and
my blood have been diminished. May it please Thee, that
my fat and my blood which have been diminished be as if
I had offered them upon the altar, and be merciful to me' '
(Berachoth, fol. 16, col. 2).

More interesting, because of its similarity to the Phari-
see's prayer mentioned in the Gospel of Luke xviii. 9-14, is
the following of Rabbi Nechunjah the son of Ha-Kanah,
which he uttered upon leaving the school of learning: "I
thank thee my God, that thou hast given me my portion
among those who sit in the house of learning and not
among those who sit at the corners of the street. For I
rise up early, and they rise up early; I rise up early to
occupy myself in things concerning the law, they rise up
early to occupy themselves in things which are useless.
I work and they work. I work and receive a reward, they

424 THE MONIST.

work and receive no reward. I run and they run. I run to
everlasting life, and they run to the pit of destruction"
(Berachoth, fol. 28, col. 2).

13. Jesus: "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your
heavenly Father will also forgive you" (Matt. vi. 14).

Rabba (died after 331 A. D.) : "Whoever forgives the
wrong done unto him, God will also forgive his sins" (Mas-
secheth Derech erez sutta, 8, 4).

14. Jesus: "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon
earth where moth and rust doth corrupt" etc. (Matt. vi. 19,
20).

In the Talmud (Jerusalem Peah 15^ ; Baba Bathra i ia)
we read of Monobazus,4 king of Adiabene on the Tigris,
who with his mother Helena and his brother Izates be-
came converts to Judaism. After wild exaggerations of
his wealth, the narrative goes on to say that his brothers
and friends came to him and said, "Thy fathers gathered
treasures and added to the treasures of their fathers, but
thou scatterest them." He answered, "My fathers had
their treasures below, and I lay them up above ; my fathers
had their treasures where the hands [of men] may lay
hold of them, I, where no hand can do so. My fathers'
treasures yield no fruit, but I collect what gives fruit.
My fathers stored away mammon, I, treasures of the soul ;
my fathers did it for others, I for myself. My fathers gath-
ered them for the world, I, for the world to come."

A Jewish writer quoting what is said of Monobazus
remarks with reference to Matt. vi. 19, 20: "The Talmud
enjoins this moral more strikingly and practically by at-
tributing it to the benevolent proselyte Munbaz (= Mono-
bazus).— But who will vouch that the words put into the
mouth of this proselyte from heathenism, were not the
after-thought of some rabbi ? Is it possible to imagine that
Jesus should have heard of his supposed words and perused

4 He was king in the year 61 A. D.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 425

them at the beginning of his ministry? Credat Judaeus
Apella!

15. Jesus: "Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow
not, neither do they reap," etc. (Matt. vi. 26).

Rabbi Simon ben Eleazar (3d cent.) : "Hast thou ever
seen a beast or a bird that followed a trade, and yet they
are fed without toil. But these were only created to min-
ister to me, while I was created to minister to my Maker.
Was it not right, then, that I should be supported without
toil? But I have marred my work and forfeited my sup-
port" (Kidushin, fol. 82, col. 2).

The late Prof. Franz Delitzsch, in his Judisches Hand-
werkerleben zur Zeit ]esu? quotes this passage in the fol-
lowing connection :

"A learned Jew of the British Museum, Emmanuel
Deutsch, published in 1867, in The Quarterly Review, an
article on the Talmud, in which he endeavored to show that
between Judaism and Christianity no such wide difference
exists as is generally believed, since most of the pithy say-
ings and parables of the New Testament are not to be re-
garded as the original property of Christianity. The im-
pression produced by this essay was all the deeper, the
less able most of the readers were to compare the New
Testament with this its glorification .... It would be very
easy to demonstrate that the author has no idea of the
essence of Christianity, .... that the records of Christianity
are much older than their Talmudic parallels."

After quoting the above passage from the Talmud, to-
gether with Matt. vi. 26, Delitzsch goes on : "Herr Deutsch
draws many such parallels, avoiding with a proud air the
question of priority, as if it could not be raised at all. For
when did this Simon live ? He lived in the time of Emperor
Hadrian, full nigh a century later than Jesus! We will

'English translation by B. Pick, Jewish Artisan Life, New York: Funk
& Wagnalls, 1882, p. 23.

426 THE MONIST.

not, of course, insist on that account that he had drawn his
maxim either direct from the Gospel of St. Matthew, which
was current in the Hebrew language, or indirectly from
Christian lips; but if there is such a real coincidence, it is
evident here, as in almost every other case, that the saying
of Jesus is the original, and that of Simon the copy.
We say in almost every other case, but we might just as
well say in all cases; for with the exception of Hillel, all
Talmudic teachers whose maxims correspond to the words
of the New Testament are of a far later date than Jesus and
the records of Christianity.6

16. Jesus: "Therefore take no thought saying, What
shall we eat? or what shall we drink?" etc. (Matt. vi. 31-

34).

Rabbi Eliezer (died A. D. n/)7 says: "He who still
has bread in the basket, and saith, What shall I eat to-
morrow? belongeth to those of little faith" Sotah, fol. 48,
col. 2).

17. Jesus: "For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall
be judged" (Matt. vii. 2).

The post-Mishnaic teachers said: "He that judges his
neighbor charitably, is himself judged charitably" (Shab-
bath, fol. 127, col. 2).

1 8. Jesus: "With what measure ye mete, it shall be
measured to you again" (Matt. vii. 2).

Rabbi Me'ir8 (26. cent.) : "With what measure a man
metes it shall be measured to him from heaven" (San-
hedrin, fol. 100, col. i).

8 These words are the more important because they come from a scholar
who understood the Talmud better than did Deutsch. Jewish scholars every-
where acknowledged the rabbinic learning of the late Professor Delitzsch, the
well-known Hebrew translator of the New Testament.

TThis Eliezer, surnamed the Great, had intercourse with Christians, espe-
cially with the Apostle James, and of his intercourse we read in the Talmud
(Aboda Zara, fol. 17, cols. I and 2) ; see above II. B, 2, 2. — in the Midrash
Mechiltha on Exod. xvi. 4 (ed. Friedmann, p. 476) this saying is ascribed to
Eleazar of Modiim. But he, too, lived in the 2d century A. D.

8 See my articles on Rabbis Meir and Tarphon in McClintock and Strong.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 427

Jesus: "Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye"
(Matt. vii. 4).

Rabbi Tarphon, (A. D. 120) : "It would greatly aston-
ish me if there could be found any one in this age who
would receive an admonition. If he be admonished to take
the splinter out of his eye, he would answer: Take the
beam out of thine own" (Arachin, fol. 16, col. 2).

Rabbi Jochanan surnamed Bar Napha (A. D. 199-
279) : "Do they say, Take the splinter out of thine eye,
he will answer : 'Remove the beam out of thine own eye' '
(Baba Bathra, fol. 15, col. 2).

Since this saying is found in the mouth of different
rabbis, may not this indicate how very widely the sayings
of Jesus had spread among the people?

Jesus: "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of
thine eye, and then shalt thou see" etc. (Matt. vii. 5).

Resh Lakesh (A. D. 275) : "What is the meaning of
the passage, Examine thyself and search (Zeph. 2, n)?
He who will reprove others must himself be pure and spot-
less" (Baba Mezia, fol. 107, col. 2; Baba Bathra, fol. 60,
col. 2).

21. Jesus: "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to them" etc.
(Matt. vii. 12).

HUM (died B. C. 5? or 10 A. D.?) : "What is hateful
to thyself, thou shalt not do to thy neighbor. This is the
whole law, and the rest is commentary" (Shabbath, fol.
31, col. i).

This is the famous answer which Hillel is recorded to
have given to a Gentile who came to him to be converted
to Judaism whilst standing on one foot, an answer which
modern Jewish writers quote with a show of self-compla-
cency, and upon which rests the assertion of Jewish writers
and men like Renan, who make Jesus an imitator of Hillel.'

* Stapfer (Palestine in the Time of Christ, 3d. ed., New York, p. 289) says :

428 THE MONIST.

As to the famous answer which Hillel is said to have
given, he cannot be claimed as the original author, and
the Jewish historian Jost tells us that the sentence which
Hillel uttered was one which at that time was familiar to
everybody (Geschichte, I, p. 259) ; and any superstructure
based upon the assumption that he invented it, because he
in particular used it, falls to the ground. But we must
bear in mind that there is a wide interval between the
merely negative rule of Hillel and the positive precept of
Christ. The latter said : "Therefore all things whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them ;
for this is the law and the prophets" (Matt. vii. 12; Luke
vi. 31). Hillel said: "What is hateful to thee, do not to
another. This is the whole law, all else is only its explana-
tion." The Jewish writer Hamburger (in his Real-Encyc.,
II, p. 411) makes the remarkable admission that the nega-
tive form was chosen to make the commandment "possible"
and "practical." But this is only a subterfuge. For as
Edersheim correctly remarks (loc. cit. I, 535) : "The mer-
est beginner in logic must perceive that there is a vast dif-
ference between this negative injunction prohibiting us from
doing to others what is hateful to ourselves, and the positive
direction to do unto others as we would have them do unto
us. The one does not rise above the standpoint of the law,
being as yet far from that love which would lavish on
others the good we ourselves desire; while the Christian
saying embodies the nearest approach to absolute love of
which human nature is capable, making that the test of

"He (Hillel) has often been regarded as a forerunner of Christianity, for
which he is supposed to have prepared the way. We have ourselves spoken
of him under this aspect, but as we now deem, erroneously. Our views have
become modified." On p. 297 Stapfer remarks: "With Hillel, the 'neighbor'
could be no other than a Jew. It never entered the mind of an Israelite of the
first century that a Gentile or Samaritan could be in any sense a neighbor.
Jesus was the first who dared to call the hated Samaritan 'neighbor,' and the
spectacle which the churches formed by St. Paul presented twenty years later,
when Jew and Gentile sat together at the table of the Lord, was a thing ab-
solutely new. When Jesus said, 'All ye are brethren,' He founded a universal
brotherhood of which Hillel had never dreamed." — Thus Stapfer, the French
Protestant university teacher and countryman of Renan.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 429

our conduct to others which we ourselves desire to possess.
And be it observed, the Lord does not put self-love as the
principle of our conduct, but only as its ready test."

Another point is that similar sayings are found long
before Hillel. Thus Diogenes Laertius relates that Aris-
totle (died after 322 B. C), when asked how we ought to
conduct ourselves toward our friends, answered: "As we
would wish they would carry themselves toward us." And
Isocrates, who lived four hundred years before the pub-
lication of the Gospel, said:

a TTcurxoireg v<£* trcpaiv opywrere ravra rots aXXoig /AT)

i. e., "we must not do to others that which would cause
anger if it were done to ourselves." In the apocryphal
book of Tobit we read (iv. 15) :

a /Aicreis /ATjSei/l

i. e., "Do to no man that which thou hatest."

In the so-called Epistle of Aristeas, which purports to
give a history of the origin of the translation of the Old
Testament into Greek or the Septuagint, the same idea is
put into the mouth of one of the Jewish sages, who, to the
question of the king, What is the teaching of wisdom ? ex-
plains : "If you who wish not that evil befall you, but rather
everything good, do the same to your subjects, and to those
who err, and reprimand the good men mildly."

22. Jesus : "Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings
of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man
which built his house upon a rock" etc. (Matt. vii. 24-27).
Rabbi Eliezer ben Azariah (about A. D. 82) : "He
whose knowledge surpasses his good deeds may be com-
pared to a tree with many branches and a scanty root —
every wind shakes and uproots it. But he whose good
deeds excel his knowledge may be compared to a tree with
a few branches and strong roots; if all the hurricanes of

43O THE MONIST.

the world should come and storm against it they would
not move it from the place" (Pirke Aboth, 3, 17).

Elisha ben Abuyah10 (about A. D. 138) : "A man who
studies the law, and acts in accordance with its command-
ments, is likened unto a man who builds a house the foun-
dation of which is made of freestone and the superstructure
of bricks. Storm and flood cannot injure the house. But
he who studies the law but is destitute of good actions, is
like unto the man who builds the foundation of his house
of brick and mortar, and raises the upper stories with
solid stone. The flood will soon undermine and overturn
the house" (Aboth de Rabba Nathan, ch. 24).

Besides these passages from the Sermon on the Mount,
we will quote a few others with their respective parallels.

23. Jesus: "The harvest is plenteous, but the laborers
are few," etc. (Matt. ix. 37).

Rabbi Tarphon (about A. D. 120) : "The day is short
and the task is great, and the workmen are sluggish, and the
reward is great, and the Master of the house is urgent"
(Aboth, 2, 15).

24. Jesus: "Freely ye have received, freely give" (Matt.
x. 8).

Samuel (died 257 A. D.) : "Behold I have taught you
statutes and judgments, even as the Lord my God com-
mandeth me (Deut. iv. 5). As I have taught you freely,
so teach you freely" (Nedarim, fol. 47, col. i).

25. Jesus relates the parable of the marriage-feast of
the king's son and the wedding garment (Matt. xxii. 1-14).

This parable seems almost transferred into Jewish tra-
dition. Thus we read (Shabbath, fol. 153, col. i) that
Rabbi Jochanan ben Zacca'i (flourished after the destruc-
tion of the Temple) said: "It is like a king who invited
his servants to a banquet, but did not appoint the time. The

10 See my article on this interesting rabbi in McClintock and Strong's
Cyclop., 2d supplement.

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 43!

wise among them adorned themselves and waited at the
entrance of the king's palace, saying: Can there be any-
thing wanting at the king's house (which may delay the
banquet) ? But the foolish among them went after their
work, saying : Can there be a banquet without preparation ?
Suddenly the king asked for his servants, when the wise
among them entered adorned, but the foolish came into his
presence soiled. The king rejoiced to meet the wise servants
but was angry with the foolish servants. Let those, said
he, who have adorned themselves for the banquet sit down
to eat and drink, but let those who have not adorned them-
selves for the banquet stand and look on."

May not this rabbi have had in mind the Parable of the
Ten Virgins?

26. Jesus: "For in the resurrection they neither marry
nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in
heaven" (Matt. xxii. 30).

Rab (died 247 A. D.) : "In the world to come there is
neither eating nor drinking, neither fruitfulness nor in-
crease, neither trade nor business, neither envy, hatred,
nor strife ; but the righteous sit with their crowns on their
heads, and feast themselves on the splendor of the Shechi-
nah, as it is written ( Exod. xxiv. 1 1 ) : They saw God, and
did eat and drink" (Berachoth, fol. 17, col. i).

This reads like a rabbinic adaptation of the saying of
Christ.

27. Jesus: "And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be
abased ; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted"
(Matt, xxiii. 12).

Rabbi Jeremiah (died A. D. 250) : "Whosoever makes
himself little in this world for the sake of the word of the
law will be made great in the world to come, and whoso-
ever makes himself a slave in this world for the sake of the
word of the law will be made free in the world to come"
(Baba Meziah, fol. 85, col. 2).

432 THE MONIST.

28. Jesus: "The Sabbath was made for man, and not
man for the Sabbath" (Mark ii. 27).

Rabbi Jonathan ben Joseph (flourished after the de-
struction of the Temple) : "It is written, Ye shall keep the
Sabbath, therefore, for it is holy unto you (Exod. xxxi.
14). It is handed over to you, not ye are handed over to
the Sabbath" (Yoma, fol. 85, col. i).

This saying reminds us forcibly of Christ's words, and
as Stapfer (loc. cit., p. 357) justly remarks: "We cannot
help asking, Is not this saying probably later than that of
Christ, and suggested by it?"

From the foregoing parallels it will be evident that the
claim that the New Testament copied the Talmud must
accordingly be stigmatized once for all as a vain glorifica-
tion of modern Judaism, which, on the one hand, rejects
the Talmud as a religious code, but, on the other, makes
use of it for controversial purposes. What are the inevi-
table conclusions from the facts ? It is clear that the say-
ings of Jesus are the original, and the supposed parallels
the copy. If it were not so, how comes it that not all that
is in the Gospels can be traced back to Talmudic sources?
Says Geikie (Life and Words of Christ, New York, 1881) :
"There has been of late a tendency to exalt the Talmud
at the expense of the New Testament ; but let any one take
up a translation of any part of it, and the exaggeration
of such an estimate will at once be seen." Dunlop Moore,
the author of the article "Talmud" (in the Schaff-Herzog
Encyclop.) says: "It is admitted, too, that the Talmud has
borrowed from the neighbors of the Babylonian Jews super-
stitious views and practices notoriously contradictory to
the spirit of Judaism. Why, then, may it not have appro-
priated Christian sentences also?" And says Farrar con-
cerning these so-called parallels : "Who will supply us with
the faintest approach to a proof that, when not founded
in the Old Testament, they were not directly or indirectly

THE SAYINGS OF JESUS IN THE TALMUD. 433

due to Christian influence or Christian thought?" (Life
of Christ, II, 485).

Even if we assume that Jesus and His apostles bor-
rowed from the rabbis all the expressions that occur both
in the New Testament and in the Talmud, it does not prove
anything. The Gospel of Jesus remains an altogether new
thing, and the spiritual life that He awakened is still dia-
metrically opposed, in many respects, to the religious life
that the Talmud fosters.

BERNHARD PICK.

NEWARK, N. J.

THE CONSTRUCTION OF MAGIC SQUARES AND
RECTANGLES BY THE METHOD OF "COM-
PLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES."1

WE are indebted to Dr. C. Planck for a new and
powerful method for producing magic squares,
rectangles etc. This method is especially attractive and
valuable in furnishing a general or universal rule cover-
ing the construction of all conceivable types of squares
and rectangles, both odd and even. It is not indeed the
easiest and best method for making all kinds of squares,
as in many cases much simpler rules can be used to ad-
vantage, but it will be found exceedingly helpful in the
production of new variants, which might otherwise remain
undiscovered, seeing that they may be non-La Hireian
and ungoverned by any obvious constructive plan.

When a series of numbers is arranged in two associated
columns, as shown in Fig. I, each pair of numbers has its
distinctive difference, and these "complementary differ-
ences," as they are termed by Dr. Planck, may be used
very effectively in the construction of magic squares and
rectangles. In practice it is often quite as efficient and
simpler to use the half differences, as given in Fig. I.

In illustrating this method we will first apply it to the
construction of an associated or regular 3X5 magic rect-

1This article has been compiled almost entirely from correspondence re-
ceived by the writer from Dr. Planck, and in a large part of it the text of his
letters has been copied almost verbatim. Its publication in present form has
naturally received his sanction and endorsement. W. S. A.

MAGIC SQUARES BY COMPLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES. 435

angle, in which the natural numbers I to 15 inclusive are
to be so arranged that every long row sums 40, and every
short column sums 24. The center cell must necessarily
be occupied by 8, which is the middle number of the series,
and the complementary numbers must lie in associated
cells, such asoa — b b — c c in Fig. 2.

The first operation is to lay out a 3X5 rectangle and
fill it with such numbers that all the short columns shall
sum 24, but in which the numbers in the columns will not
be placed in any particular order. When two columns of
this rectangle are filled, three pairs of complementary

/ 'S

2 "t

J S3

4 /Z

3 //

6 so

7 *9

Fig. 2.

Fig. i. Fig. 3.

numbers will have been used, and their differences will
have disappeared, as these two columns must each sum 24.
Hence, one complementary difference must equal the sum
of the other two.

We have therefore (neglecting the middle column) to
make two equations of the form a = b -\- c from the com-
plementary differences, without using the same difference
twice. Thus :

(I)

is such a pair of equations.

436 THE MONIST.

The first equation indicates that the greater of the two
complements whose half difference is 7 can lie in the same
column with the lesser members of the pairs whose half
differences are 6 and i. In other words, the numbers 15,
7 and 2 can lie in one column, and their complements 14,
9 and I in the associated column. The second equation
(5 = 3 + 2) gives similar information regarding the other
pair of associated columns, and the three remaining num-
bers must then be placed in the middle column, thus pro-
ducing the rectangle shown in Fig. 3.

These equations determine nothing as to the placing
of the numbers in the rows, since in Fig. 3 the numbers in
the columns have no definite order.

The rows may now be attacked in a similar manner.
Two of the complementary differences in the upper or lower
row must equal the other three, and the equation will there-
fore be of the order a + £ = c + d + £.

In order that the disposition of numbers in the columns
shall not be disturbed, the numbers used in this equation
must be so chosen that any two numbers which appear to-
gether on the same side of an equality sign in the short
column equation, must not so appear in a long row equa-
tion, also if two numbers appear on the opposite sides of an
equality sign in a short column equation, they must not so
appear in the long row equation.

There is only one such equation which will conform to
the above rules, viz. :

6-f 2 = 4 + 3+ I-

Interpreting this as before we have the rectangle given
in Fig. 4, in which each of the three rows sums 40. We
have now two rectangles, Fig. 3 showing the correct num-
bers in the columns, and Fig. 4 showing the proper dis-
position of the numbers in the rows. By combining them

MAGIC SQUARES BY COMPLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES. 437

we get the associated or regular magic rectangle given in
Fig. 5.

If a mere shuffling of pairs of complementary rows or
columns is ignored, this is the only solution of the problem.2

/£>

Fig. 4. Fig. 5.

There are two pairs of equations of the form
a = b -- c

namely, the one given in (I) and

(H)

and there are nine equations of the form
a-\-b = c-\-d-}-e

but of these nine equations only one will go with (I) and
none will go with (II) so as to conform with the above
rules.

If the condition of association is relaxed there are
thirty-nine different 3X5 magic rectangles.

This method can naturally be used for constructing all
sizes of magic rectangles which are possible,8 but we will
only consider one of 5 X 7 as a final example.

1 The solution of this problem of the associated rectangle is the first step
in the construction of the higher ornate magics of composite odd orders. For
example, if the above single solution for the 3X5 rectangle did not exist it
would be impossible to construct a magic, pan-diagonal, associated (= regu-
lar) square of order 15, which shall be both 9-ply and 25-ply, i. e., any square
bunch of 9 cells to sum up 9 times the mean, and any square bunch of 25 cells
25 times the mean. C. P.

'A magic rectangle with an odd number of cells in one side and an even
number in the other, is impossible with consecutive numbers. C. P.

438

THE MONIST.

Fig. 6 shows the associated series of natural numbers
from i to 35 with their half differences, from which the
numbers must be chosen in accordance with the above

/ AS

2 3*

4 32

6 ^o

7 29

C 9 S
O -co

3 27

/o 26

// 25

/2 24

/J 23

/4 22

/S 2/

/6 20

/7 /9

Fig. 6.

24-

Fig. 7.

J-

Fig. 9.

rules. In this case there will be three equations of the
order

a -f b = c -|- d + e

for the columns, and two equations of the order

MAGIC SQUARES BY COMPLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES. 439

for the rows. The following selection of numbers will
satisfy the conditions:

i + 17 = 9 + 7 + 2

4+13= 8+ 6 + 3- (Ill)

15 + 16=14+ 12 + 5
for the columns, and

12 + 13 + 16=17 + 11+9+4!

\ .... (IV)
7+ 8 + 10 = 2+ 3 + 5 + iSJ

for the rows.

Fig. 7 is a rectangle made from (III) in which all
the columns sum 90, and Fig. 8 is a rectangle made from
(IV) in which all the rows sum 126. Combining these
two rectangles produces Fig. 9 which is magic and asso-
ciated.

We will now consider this method in connection with
magic squares and will apply it to the construction of a
square of order 5 as a first example. In this case two
equations of the order

a + b = c + d + e

will be required for the rows and two more similar equa-
tions for the columns.

The following will be found suitable for the rows:

12+11 = 10 + 9 + 4

(V)
8+ 6=

and

11+8=12 + 6+ i

(VI)
10 + 7= 9 + 5 + 3

for the columns.

440

THE MONIST.

It will be seen that the rule for pairs of numbers in the
same equation is fulfilled in the above selection. In (V)
12 and 1 1 are on the same side of an equality sign, but in
(VI) these numbers are on opposite sides, also, 10 and
9 are on the same side in (V) and on opposite sides in (VI)
and so on:

The resulting magic square is given in Fig. 10, it is
non-La Hireian, and could not easily be made in any way
other than as above described.

Fig. 10.

The construction of a square of order 6 under this
method presents more difficulties than previous examples,
on account of the inherent disabilities natural to this square
and we will consider it as a final example. The method to
be employed is precisely the same as that previously dis-
cussed.

For the columns three equations should be made of the
form:

a+b+c=d+e+f
or

a + b =c+d+e+f

and three similar equations are required for the rows, all
being subject to the rule for "pairs and equality sign" as
above described. On trial, however, this will be found to
be impossible,4 but if for one of the row- or column-equa-
tions we substitute an inequality whose difference is 2 we

4 It is demonstrably impossible for all orders = 4»+2, i. e., 6, 10, 14 etc. CP.

MAGIC SQUARES BY COMPLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES. 44!

shall obtain a square of 6, which will be "associated," but
in which two lines or columns will be erratic, one showing
a correct summation — I and the other a correct summa-
tion + i. The following equations (VII) may be used
for the columns:

11+ 7= 9+ 5+ 3+ i
25 + 17+13 = 21 + 19+ 15

35 + 31 + 23 = 33 + 29 + 27
and for the rows:

29 + 25 = 33 + 13 + 7+1
35 + 19+ 3 = 3J + 21 + 15

27 + 23 +I7+I5 + U+9

.. (VII)

|. . . (VIII)

the last being an inequality. Fig. 1 1 shows the complemen-
tary pairs of natural numbers I to 36 with their whole differ-
ences, which in this case are used in the equations (VII)
and (VIII) instead of the half differences, because these
differences can not be halved without involving fractions.
Fig. 12 is the square derived from equations (VII) and will
be found correct in the columns. Fig. 13 is the square
formed from equations (VIII) and is correct in the 1st,
2d, 5th, and 6th rows, but erratic in the 3d and 4th rows.
The finished six-square made by combining Figs. 12 and
13 is shown in Fig. 14 which is associated or regular,
and which gives correct summations in all the columns
and rows excepting the 3d and 4th rows which show — I
and +i inequalities respectively.

Fig. 14, like Fig. 10, could not probably be produced
by any other method than the one herein employed, and
both of these squares therefore demonstrate the value of

442

THE MONIST.

the methods for constructing new variants. Fig. 14 can
be readily converted into a continuous or pan-diagonal
square by first interchanging the 4th and 6th columns and
then, in the square so formed, interchanging the 4th and

34-

«r

2,3

/«}"

/<$

Fig. it.

3 A'

2<f

/fc

/•s

Fig. 12.

2<?

Fig-

2<S

34-

Fig. 14-

and 6th rows. The result of these changes is given in
Fig. 15 which shows correct summations in all columns
and rows, excepting in the 3d and 6th row which carry

MAGIC SQUARES BY COMPLEMENTARY DIFFERENCES. 443

the inequalities shown in Fig. 14. This square has lost its
property of association by the above change but has now
correct summation in all its diagonals. It is a demon-
strable fact that squares of orders 4*1 -(- 2, (i. e., 6, 10,
14 etc.) cannot be made perfectly magic in columns and
rows and at the same time either associated or pandiagonal
when constructed with consecutive numbers.

/<?

/£

22.

JJ-

34-

2<+

Fig. 15.

Fig. 16.

Dr. Planck also points out that the change which con-
verts all even associated squares into pan-diagonal squares
may be tersely expressed as follows:

Divide the square into four quarters as shown in Fig. 16.

Leave A untouched.

Reflect B.

Invert C.

Reflect and invert D.

Fig. 17.

Fig. 18.

The inverse change from pan-diagonal to association
is not necessarily effective, but it may be demonstrated
with the "Jaina" square given by Dr. Carus in Magic

444

THE MONIST.

Squares and Cubes, p. 125, which is here reproduced in
Fig. 17. This is a continuous or pan-diagonal square, but
after making the above mentioned changes it becomes an
associated or regular square as shown in Fig. 18.

JJ?

22.

Fig. 19.

Magic squares of the 8th order can however be made
to combine the pan-diagonal and associated features as
shown in Fig. 19 which is contributed by Frier son, and
this is true also of all larger squares of order 8n.

W. S. ANDREWS.

SCHENECTADY, N. Y.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.
HEINRICH HERTZ'S THEORY OF TRUTH.

A CONTRIBUTION TO CRITIQUE OF COGNITION.

In a paper read before the American Philosophical Association
in I9O2,1 I explained critique of cognition to be the examination
of systems of cognition according to principles and briefly sketched
out these principles. They were formulated as conditions which a sys-
tem must satisfy, and formed four groups the last of which was the
group of the conditions of truth. This group has the remarkable prop-
erty that it requires the fulfilment of all the other conditions. We can
therefore say that critique of cognition has for its problem the
determination of the content of truth of the systems of cognition.
Its principles can be considered as principles of truth, and so it is
clear that the problem of truth is the most important and deepest
which the establishment of the principles of critique of cognition
offers.

The first condition of this last group determines the truth of
a system with relation to its generating problem ; a second condition
determines the truth of the generating problem itself and therewith
the truth of the system not relatively to its own problem but with
respect to the system of cognition.

The conditions of truth have been formulated differently in the
different schools. We can distinguish two large groups and call
them (i) the group of the external conditions of truth and (2) the
group of the internal conditions of truth. The first, in determining
the truth of a system B, takes another system A as given ; the truth
of the system B is then determined with respect to A as "agreement"
or "correspondence" of B with A. It goes beyond the system B to
another system A, the "object," or "nature," or the "things." It is
the theory of truth of realism or dualism. The other does not take

1 See Journal of Philos., VI, No. II, p. 281.

446 THE MONIST.

such a system A as given but remains within the system B and
determines truth as a condition for the system B itself. It is the
theory of truth of idealism or monism.

The dualistic theory of truth has the disadvantage of a seem-
ing clearness, determinateness and easy application. We can repre-
sent A and B as realms by two circles ; they are determined by their
laws of necessity; the realm A is the realm of natural necessity
(Naturgesetzlichkeit}, the realm B that of logical necessity (Denk-
gesetzlichkeit) .

If then bv is any element of B, I can apply the condition of truth
to it and say: bv is a true system, (concept, theorem), if there is an av
with which it agrees. I think it is not saying too much to assert that
dualism has recommended itself to scientific thinking by its seem-
ingly useful theory of truth.

However at nearer examination it offers great difficulties. It is
not my intention to consider them here in general, but to criticise
a special case, which is however of conspicuous importance for the
whole theory.

Even if we presuppose for the present that we know what is to
be understood by this agreement (correspondence) and how it is to
be measured, we must ask: how far must the correspondence go?
Shall we understand that by this is meant a complete correspondence,
or may it be partial? And if the latter, shall that mean that any
correspondence suffices to make the system B a true one? If not,
it must be determined exactly how far this correspondence must
go, and then it will not be the correspondence in general which de-
termines the truth but this precisely-to-be-determined degree of
correspondence.

Of all those who have stated a realistic theory of truth Hein-
rich Hertz alone, so far as I am aware, has tried to determine this
degree of correspondence. His theory, which he has developed in
the famous introduction to his Principien der Mechanik, is the
special case of which I spoke, and which we shall criticise.

The realms A and B are with him also determined by the laws
of their necessity, A by the Naturnothwendigkeit, B by the Denk-
nothwendigkeit ; A is "things," B the Scheinbilder or "symbols,"
which we ourselves "make" of the things. The elements of B as
mere Scheinbilder or symbols have of course of themselves no agree-
ment whatsoever with things, neither complete nor partial. But we
make these Scheinbilder so that they satisfy a certain condition,
which we shall designate by V and call the condition of truth.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 447

Hertz himself calls V the Grundforderung (fundamental require-
ment or condition) and the symbols which satisfy it, Bilder (images)
or more exactly richtige Bilder (correct images). In so far as the
elements of B satisfy the condition V, he says that they correspond
to the elements of A. The images are called also our "represen-
tations of the things." "They have the one essential correspondence
with things which lies in the fulfilment of the above-named con-
dition (V), but it is not necessary for their purpose that they have
any further correspondence with the things. Indeed we know not
and have no means of finding out, whether our representations of
things agree with them in anything else than just that one funda-
mental relation."2 All those naive theories which speak of a complete
correspondence of our representations to the things, or of a cor-
respondence at all which belongs to the representations as such are
therewith placed outside discussion; we "make" these representa-
tions and we call them "correct," or true, or in correspondence with
the things, if they satisfy a certain condition V.

Everything depends therefore on this condition V; it deter-
mines the truth of the realm B. Its critique is the critique of his
theory of truth. Hertz formulates it thus: we make the symbols
of the outer objects "such that the logically necessary consequences
of the images are always again the images of the naturally necessary
consequences of the depicted objects."3 The content of this condition
seems to be precisely that great method of determining truth in
physics, namely, the experiment.

It will be useful for our further consideration to represent con-
dition V symbolically. If I designate by b^ and bv two images, by
// (^M) tne logically necessary consequence of b^, by a^ and av two
things, by fn (a^ ) the naturally necessary consequence of av , and
by <f> a law of representation, according to which to every aA belongs
a definite £A , then condition V can be formulated thus :

H*,-//(*M)

and av = /„ (^ )

then b^ = <j> (a^ ) is a true image

if bv = + («, )

On the other hand we can say : For every image b^ = <(> (aM ), which
satisfies condition V,

*, - + (a. )

if a* = fn (<V )
and bv = // (^ )

' Principien der Mechanik, p. 2.
1 Principien der Mechanik, p. i.

448 THE MONIST.

From this follows : it is necessary that

That is, the condition requires that I obtain the same image bv ,
whether I determine it as the denknothwendige consequence of. b^ or
as the image of the naturnothwendigc consequence of a^ .

We can express this as follows: If B is a realm for which the
condition V is satisfied, then B is closed in itself with respect to the
operation // ; i. e., every logically necessary consequence of any
elements of B is itself an element of B; because it can always be
considered as image of an element of A ; that is,

if «/=/, OO
then TV = $ (aK )

= bK if V is satisfied.

If therefore such a realm B for which the condition V is satisfied,
is once determined, it can be considered as Modell of A; i. e., the
image of any A can be obtained by logically necessary conclusions
from B. And this task, to determine B so that in our considerations
it can be substituted for A, is the purpose which we have in estab-
lishing B. We start with A, which we consider as given ; this we
represent, in conformity with the condition V, by B which we finally
substitute for A. The possibility of this substitution is expressed
by the equation, and we can therefore finally say: If a realm A is
given, and B is determined as image of A such that the condition
V is satisfied, then:

A = B.

We have now sufficiently analyzed the fundamental requirement
to be prepared for its critique.

I preface it with the remark that we must carefully distinguish be-
tween the thesis : B is a true system because it has with an (objectively
given) realm A the correspondence specified by the fundamental
condition V ; and the thesis : if B is a true system it can be considered
as image of a realm A which we call objectively given and with
which it has the correspondence specified by V. For the first thesis
the realm A is essential, for the correspondence with A makes B a
true system. This is the thesis of Heinrich Hertz. For the second,
A is not essential, since B is otherwise determined as true ; the realm
A can be considered as an interpretation of the system B, or vice
versa B as image of a realm A presupposed as given. This way of
conceiving B has proven very convenient for the natural sciences
and is therefore in general, probably unavoidable, use ; only it is im-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 449

portant to remark that this is by no means essential for a pure sys-
tem of natural science.

The realm B is the realm of the images of A ; they are symbols
which are determined as a realm by "logical necessity"; but by
•what condition are they determined as images of elements of A?
That is, by what condition are these symbols distinguished as images
of A from other symbols in the realm of logical necessity?

To this we can answer that the realm B is the realm of the
images of A. But by this we would say that what is logically
necessary is eo ipso image of something naturally necessary; the
realms "logical necessity" and "image of A" coincide. But this
was evidently not the thesis. The distinction of the realms A and B
originated in the conviction that there was logical necessity, which
did not represent natural necessity ; in other words, that the criterion
of logical necessity was not sufficient for the determination of truth.
But if we say that the image of A lies indeed in the realm D of logical
necessity, then we must specify the condition by which B is dis-
tinguished from the rest of D. This question is the more urgent
if we base the condition of truth on the property of being an image,
as Heinrich Hertz does. For the Grundforderung says : ^ is a true
image, if bv , the logically necessary consequence of b^t is the image
of av , the naturally necessary consequence of a^ .

H *.-//(*,)
then bv = * [/„ (^ )]

We must therefore have a condition by which we determine whether
bv is indeed image of av — fn (<*M ). If every logical necessity were
eo ipso image of a natural necessity, then the fundamental condition
would be superfluous. We cannot say here that these images are
given to us by sensation; for we "make" these images and the
images are mere "symbols."

This first answer to the question: what is the condition which
the symbols must satisfy in order to be images of A, led to the
destruction of the Grundforderung. But a second answer is possible,
and it seems as if Hertz himself had had it in mind, namely, that
the condition that we seek, is the condition V itself. He says : "We
make for ourselves inner Scheinbilder or symbols of outer objects
and we make them so that the logically necessary consequences
of the images are always again the images of the naturally necessary
consequences of the represented objects"; or in our formulation,
we make them so that they satisfy condition V.

Then the condition of truth and the condition of being an

45O THE MONIST.

image are the same. Symbols of the realm B of the logical necessity
which satisfy the condition V, are at the same time images and true
images. In other words : a symbol b^ is either a true image of a^ ,
or it is not a true image ; whether it then can still be an image at
all, as for instance a false image, — about this we know nothing.

The formulation, "image and true image are identical," is in-
deed required by the condition V itself. For we said :

where it is evident that we must understand by the representation
<f> a true image; i. e., if bv might possibly be a false image then it
could decidedly not prove that b^ , from which it logically follows,
is a true image.

If we now write fa for a true representation, then V will take
the form :

if bv = fa (av )
then b^ = fa (a^ )

Thus the truth of b^ is based, by the fundamental condition V, on
the truth of its logically necessary consequence, therefore on the
truth of another image, and it would be necessary for us to have
previously somehow and from somewhere a true image, then we
could by means of V determine the truth of other images. Still we
could not determine the truth of the first image by the condition V.
So Hertz forsakes his first point of view, that the images are mere
symbols, in themselves neither similar nor different, neither true nor
false ; and takes his refuge in another criterion of truth, namely ex-
perience. "If we have once succeeded in deducing from the col-
lected past experience images of the required quality ..." This how-
ever means nothing but that the condition V as criterion of truth
has been given up, it was to decide about the truth of the images ;
instead he appeals to the angesammelte Erfahrung to give us true
images and at the same time to guarantee them!

KARL SCHMIDT.

PEQUAKET, N. H.

A MONISTIC CONCEPTION OF LIFE AND LIFE AFTER

DEATH.

IN REPLY TO JOHAN GUSTAF BJOERKLUND AND HIS EX-
POUNDER, MR. J. E. FRIES.

Among the thinkers who have pondered over the problem of
the immortality of the soul, Gustaf Bjorklund is prominent by reason

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 451

of originality and keenness of thought; and yet knowledge of his
theory has remained limited to his own country, Sweden. The rest
of the world has taken very little notice of his propositions because
his books have heretofore remained untranslated. While admitting
the significance of Bjorklund as a thinker I cannot accept his argu-
ments or conclusions, and I will here state briefly the main points
which I have to make in comment upon Mr. J. E. Fries's exposition
of them in his article "Death and Resurrection" ( The Monist, April,
1910).

First I will briefly point out that my idea of nature is different
from Bjorklund's. The very word "nature" means "growth," and so
does its Greek equivalent physis. Growth, development, activity is
the most obvious feature which unsophisticated man observed in the
world. Yea, the word "world" itself conveys the same idea as the
Latin natura, for it is derived from a Saxon root which means "be-
coming, growing, developing," and which is still preserved in the
German werden. Mr. Bjorklund would exclude from nature its
most characteristic feature of self-motion, of producing configura-
tions of higher units, of building up and storing energy as it appears
in the vegetation of our globe. The notion that this world consists
of inert substance is of very late origin and is due to the analysis
made by the chemist who by dissecting life and separating higher
units retains its dead elements. By destroying a complex we retain
the unrelated parts, and yet the chemist knows very well, or he
ought to know, that there is no inert matter. All matter is aglow
with a tendency to act, and this tendency does not enter into matter
from the outside, but is its inalienable and intrinsic characteristic.

There is no inert matter in the sense that its particles are dead
and show symptoms of activity only by a push from the outside.
Gravity and all other forces of nature are qualities inherent in mat-
ter, and it is not an extraneous energy which pushes the stone toward
the ground but it is its own innate life which responds according
to given conditions.

It is true, as Mr. Fries says, that I have repeatedly declared that
vitality or life force is a quality sui generis. It is an energy of its
own and different from all other energies, just as electricity is
different from light and from other motion. But Mr. Fries mis-
understands my statement if he thinks that according to my view
there are two kinds of energy, life energy and physical energy.
There is only one energy and this energy appears in different forms,
each one being sui generis in the sense that it is different from the

452 THE MONIST.

others, but every one of them can be changed into any of the others
according to conditions. Molar motion, or change of place of entire
masses, is energy, and molar motion can be changed into heat. Heat
is a motion of the very particles of matter among themselves, and it
can be changed into ether waves such as light and electricity. A
commotion of ether is decidedly different from a commotion of
material atoms, and this again from a mere change of place of whole
masses. And yet each of these three motions can be transformed
into any of the others. Chemical combination is again a kind of
energy of its own, though it incidentally may be combined with
either or both, heat and electricity, and even molar motion, as e. g.,
in explosions ; yet when we come to a consideration of life forces
we find that they are more complicated than all others. Nevertheless
they contain all others, and vital functions are sui generis only in
so far as they constitute a constant round of continuous functions.
Life appropriates foreign materials by assimilation to build up new
life according to its kind, and this is called growth. A similar process
takes place in inorganic nature, for crystals grow also and assimi-
late matter to their own form. The most important characteristic
of life force, however, is its organization into higher units, a stor-
ing up of energy which animal life spends in locomotion. In spite
of being a process sui generis it is nothing but a combination of all
other kinds of energy. This product of a higher unity contains
new features as do all unifications, and the interconnection of the
latent life forces, of potential sentiency, produces in animal sub-
stance a condition of awareness called feeling, and from feeling the
soul develops, with all its wonderful faculties. I can not enter into
the details of an explanation of the origin of the soul. I will only
insist that the process is as mysterious as other phenomena in the
physical, chemical and vegetal domains, but not more so. I claim
that there is only one mystery pervading, the whole universe and this
mystery is existence — the existence of the universe itself. The same
mystery confronts us in the formation of a crystal as much as in
chemical combinations, in the spontaneity of the falling stone and in
the growth of a tree. Everywhere we have self-activity, an inherent
faculty of combining into units, or building up structures, or of
organizing into higher life units, called organisms, and if we wanted
to assume a special outside power to accomplish any one of these
functions we would have to assume a specific energy for chemical
life, for the growth of crystals, for plant life and the formation of
the soul. I grant that the formation of living plasma is a mystery,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 453

but it would be a greater mystery still if we assumed in addition to
the general world mystery a second mystery which comes into the
world from the outside.

If we call the domain of physical activity nature or physics I
will gladly grant that the domain of organized life constitutes a
higher realm, and we may call it supernatural or hyperphysical, but
this supernatural life has not, so far as we can see, come from the
outside of the world into it, but lies latent in the very constitution
of all existence. The hyperphysical grows from the physical, the
supernatural develops naturally from the natural, the conditions of
the higher lie concealed in the lower forms of cosmic being.

Life is a continuous process and every organism is the link of a
long chain. The problem of the origin of life is not yet ripe for so-
lution. Our microscopists have not yet discovered the most primitive
life forms, and if they had they would most likely be disappointed
to find themselves confronted with a new problem. It is more than
probable that there is an intermediate domain between purely chem-
ical processes and organization, and this domain would exhibit ac-
tivities like that known as fermentation. At any rate we must bear
in mind the important role played in organized life by memory.
Think of it that the tiniest bacillus has become what it is by the
previous activity of its ancestry, and if we want to reproduce it,
we would have to repeat in due succession the very same conditions
through which it has passed since its differentiation from the most
primitive vital function into a definite bacillus. Such is the con-
clusion which we must accept according to what we know of life.
Is it then probable that we shall ever be able to manufacture even
the smallest organism?

The formula omne vivum ex vivo must be rendered more exact
by restating it thus : Organized life is a continuous process and the
nature or quality of every organism is determined by the nature or
quality of its ancestors. We may add by way of hypothesis, based
on what we know of life, that the nature or quality of every organ-
ism consists in the traces of its own activity. Everything that exists
(including the tiniest spark of organized life) is acted upon by its
surroundings and reacts upon these impressions or impacts received.
Life is a function, and its essential characteristic is the constant flux
of metabolism in which however the forms of the old traces are pre-
served.1 This is conditioned by the viscosity of living substance which

1 See "Have Atoms Souls?" Open Court, XXIV, 119-122. For further ar-
ticles on the soul see bibliography of the author, Philosophy as a Science, p. 175

454 THE MONIST.

renders it very plastic. Every commotion produces a modification
of the structure, a vestige, and if the same kind of commotion is re-
peated the vestige grows stronger and finally develops into an organ.
Every organ is the product of its function. Function precedes the
formation of organs and is the result of the preservation of a definite
and constantly repeated mode of response to a certain kind of stim-
ulus. In the higher sphere of psychic life this preservation of the
form of functions is called "memory," and so we may say that every
organism is the product of memory. Every bacillus has become
what it is by its own doings. Because naturalists have been unable
to make organisms we need not jump at the conclusion that organic
life has come into the world from the outside, especially as there is
no gap between life and inorganic forces, between living substance
and so-called inert matter. The transformation of chemical elements
into human limbs and brains is an object of common observation.

The significance of Bjorklund's work consists more in his in-
tentions than in his accomplishments ; it lies in his attempt at solving
the selfsame problem which plays so prominent a part in religion,
"When a man dies shall he live again?" We see that the body de-
cays and nothing is left but ashes. The only answer as to the fate
of man is expressed in the Biblical passage, attributed by the author
of the third chapter of Genesis to God himself: "For dust thou art
and unto dust shalt thou return," and the same truth is most im-
pressively reiterated in Eccl. iii. 19-20. But in spite of everything,
man feels instinctively that death does not end all, and he is right.
The problem is solved when we understand the part which memory
plays in the development of life. Memory builds up organisms,
memory shapes our souls, memory makes evolution and progress
possible, and memory means immortality. As man does not come
from nothing, but is the continuation of his past, so he is not annihi-
lated but his doings and his thoughts, the significance of his life,
his soul continues after him. He rests from his labors, but his works
follow him. Our life consists of work, and it is in our works that
we live on after death.

EDITOR.

MAGIC CIRCLES AND SPHERES.

Magic circles and spheres have been apparently much less stud-
ied than magic squares and cubes. We cannot say that this is be-
cause their range of variety and development is limited ; but it may

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

455

be that our interest in them has been discouraged, owing to the
difficulty of showing them clearly on paper, which is especially the
case with those of three dimensions.

It is the aim of the present paper to give a few examples of what
might be done in this line, and to explain certain methods of con-
struction, which are similar in some respects to the methods used in
constructing magic squares.

MAGIC CIRCLES.

The most simple form of magic spheres is embodied in all per-
fect dice. It is commonly known that the opposite faces of a die
contain complementary numbers; that is, 6 is opposite to I, 5 is

Fig. 2.

Fig. 3

opposite to 2, and 4 is opposite to 3 — the complementaries in each
case adding to 7 — consequently, any band of four numbers encirc-
ling the die, gives a summation of 14. This is illustrated in Fig. I,

Fig. 4

Fig. 5-

which gives a spherical representation of the die ; and if we imagine
this sphere flattened into a plane, we have the diagram shown in
Fig. 2 ,which is the most simple form of magic circles.

456

THE MONIST.

Fig. 3 is another construction giving the same results as Fig. 2 ;
the only difference being in the arrangement of the circles. It will
be noticed in these two diagrams that any pair of complementary
numbers is common to two circles, which is a rule also used in con-
structing many of the following diagrams.

Fig. 7.

Fig. 4 contains the series I, 2, 3 12 arranged in four circles

of six numbers each, with totals of 39. Any one of these circles
laps the other three, making six points of intersection on which are

Fig. 8.

placed three pairs of complementary numbers according to the above
rule. The most simple way of following this rule is to start by pla-
cing number i at any desired point of intersection ; then by tracing
out the two circles from this point, we find their second point of

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

457

intersection, on which must be placed the complementary number
of i. Accordingly we locate 2 and its complementary, 3 and its com-
plementary, and so on until the diagram is completed.

Fig. 5 is the same as Fig. 4, differing only in the arrangement
of the circles.

Fig. 6 contains the series I, 2, 3 .... 20 arranged in five circles
of eight numbers each, with totals of 84.

Fig. 9.

Fig. 7 contains the series i, 2, 3. . . .14 arranged in five circles
of six numbers each, with totals of 45. It will be noticed in this
diagram, that the i and 14 pair is placed at the intersections of
three circles, but such intersections may exist as long as each circle
contains the same number of pairs.

Fig. 8 contains the series i, 2, 3. . . .24 arranged in six circles
of eight numbers each, with totals of 100.

Fig. 9 contains the series i, 2, 3 ... .30 arranged in six circles

458

THE MONIST.

of ten numbers each, with totals of 155. Also, if we add together
any two diametrical lines of four and six numbers respectively, we
will get totals of 155 ; but this is only in consequence of the comple-
mentaries being diametrically opposite.

Fig. 10 contains the series I, 2, 3 40 arranged in eight

circles of ten numbers each, with totals of 205.

Fig. ii contains the series i, 2, 3 8 arranged in eight circles

of four numbers each, with totals of 18. This diagram involves a

Fig. 10.

feature not found in any of the foregoing examples, which is due
to the arrangement of the circles. It will be noticed that each
number marks the intersection of four circles, but we find that no
other point is common to the same four circles, consequently we need
more than the foregoing rule to meet these conditions. If we place
the pairs on horizontally opposite points, all but the two large circles
will contain two pairs of complementaries. The totals of the two

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

459

large circles must be accomplished by adjusting the pairs. This
adjustment is made in Fig. 12, which shows the two selections that
will give totals of 18.

Fig. n.

Fig. 12.

Fig. 13.

Fig. 14

Fig. 13 contains the series I, 2, 3 24 arranged in ten

circles of six numbers each, with totals of 75. This is accomplished
by placing the pairs on radial lines such that each of the six equal

460

THE MONIST.

circles contains three pairs. It then only remains to adjust these
pairs to give the constant totals to each of the four concentric circles.
Their adjustment is shown diagrammatically in Fig. 14, which is
one of many selections that would suit this case.

Fig. 15 contains the series i, 2, 3 .... 12 arranged in seven
circles and two diametrical lines of four numbers each with totals
of 26.

Fig. 17.

The large number of tangential points renders this problem
quite difficult, and it appears to be solvable only by L,a Hireian
methods. It was derived by adding together the respective num-
bers of the two primary diagrams Figs. 16 and 17, and Fig. 17 was
in turn derived from the two primary diagrams Figs. 18 and 19.

We begin first with Fig. 16 by placing four each of the num-
bers o, 4, and 8 so that we get nine totals amounting to 16. This

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

461

is done by placing the 4's on the non-tangential circle ; which leaves
it an easy matter to place the o's and 8's in their required positions.
Fig. 17 must then be constructed so as to contain three sets of the
series i, 2, 3, 4; each set to correspond in position respective to the

Fig. 19.

,45

-S- ^C" ^3*^*x—

f^^^^^O

*^z$C

w\ \\%

Fig. ao,

three sets in Fig. 16, and give totals of 10. This could be done by
experiment, but their positions are much easier found with the two
diagrams, Figs. 18 and 19. Fig. 18 contains six o's and six 2*s

462

THE MONIST.

giving totals of 4, while Fig. 19 contains six I's and six 2's giving
totals of 6. It will be noticed in Fig. 16 that the o's form a hori-
zontal diamond, the 8's a vertical diamond and the 4's a square,
which three figures are shown by dotted lines in Figs. 18 and 19.
Besides giving the required totals, Figs. 18 and 19 must have their
numbers so arranged, that we can add together the respective dia-
monds and squares, and obtain the series i, 2, 3, 4 for each diamond

i/T l ' rx sz \

55 VJ* -9^ / 37 T\ >

-17-^ \tfl/ ^-30"7?"\^

Fig. 21.

and square, which is shown in Fig. 17. Figs. 17 and 16 are then
added together which gives us the result as shown in Fig. 15.

This diagram was first designed for a sphere, in which case
the two diametrical lines and the 5, 6, 7, 8 circle were great circles
on the sphere and placed at right angles to each other as are the
three circles in Fig. I. The six remaining circles were equal and
had their tangential points resting on the great circles. The dia-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

463

grams used here are easier delineated and much easier to under-
stand than the sphere would have been.

Fig. 20 contains the series i, 2, 3 .... 54 arranged in nine
circles of twelve numbers each with totals of 330. The arrange-
ment also forms six 3X3 magic squares.

Fig. 22.

Fig. 23.

Fig. 24.

We begin this figure by placing the numbers I to 9 in magic
square order, filling any one of the six groups of points; then,
according to the first general rule, we locate the complementaries
of each of these numbers, forming a second and complementary

Fig. 25.

Fig. 26.

square. We locate the remaining two pairs of squares in the same
manner. The pairs of squares in the figure are located in the same
relative positions as the pairs of numbers in Fig. 3, in which respect
the two figures are identical.

Fig. 21 contains the series i, 2, 3 .... 96 arranged in twelve

464 THE MONIST.

circles of sixteen numbers each, with totals of 776. The sum of the
sixteen numbers in each of the six squares is also 776. These
squares possess the features of the ancient Jaina square, and are
constructed by the La Hireian method as follows.

The series o, 4, 8, 12 92 are arranged in six horizontal

groups of four numbers, as shown in Fig. 24, by running the series
down, up, down, and up through the four respective vertical rows,
the upper horizontal row of Fig. 24 is used to form the primary
square Fig. 23; likewise, five other squares are formed with the
remaining groups of Fig. 24. These six squares are each, in turn,
added to the primary square, Fig. 22, giving the six squares in Fig.
21. There is no necessary order in the placing of these squares,
since their summations are equal.

Figs. 25 and 26 show the convenience of using circles to show
up the features of magic squares. The two diagrams represent the
same square, and show eighteen summations amounting to 34.

MAGIC SPHERES.

In constructing the following spheres, a general rule of placing
complementary numbers diametrically opposite, has been followed,
in which cases we would term them regular. This conforms with
a characteristic of magic squares and cubes, as described by Mr.
W. S. Andrews in his book on Magic Squares and Cubes.

Fig. 27 is a sphere containing the series I, 2, 3 26 arranged

in nine circles of eight numbers each, with totals of 108.

In this example, it is only necessary to place the pairs at dia-
metrically opposite points; because all the circles are great circles,
which necessitates the diametrically opposite position of any pair
common to two or more circles. Otherwise we are at liberty to
place the pairs as desired ; so, in this sphere it was chosen to place
the series i, 2, 3. . . .9 in magic square form, on the front face, and
in consequence, we form a complementary square on the rear face.

Fig. 28 is a sphere containing the series i, 2, 3 .... 26, arranged
in seven circles of eight numbers each, with totals of 108.

This was accomplished by placing the two means of the series
at the poles, and the eight extremes in diametrically opposite pairs
on the central horizontal circle. In order to give the sphere "regu-
lar" qualities, as mentioned before, the remaining numbers should
be placed as shown by diagram in Fig. 29. This shows the two
selections for the upper and lower horizontal circles. The numbers
for the upper circle are arranged at random, and the numbers in the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

465

lower circle are arranged in respect to their complementaries in the
upper circle.

Fig. 30 is a sphere containing the series I, 2, 3 .... 62 arranged
in eleven circles of twelve numbers each, with totals of 378.

This is a modification of the last example and represents the
parallels and meridians of the earth. Its method of construction
is also similar, and the selections are clearly shown in Fig. 31.

Fig. 27.

Fig. 32 shows two concentric spheres containing the series

i, 2, 3 12 arranged in six circles of four numbers each, with

totals of 26. It also has three diametrical lines running through the
spheres with totals of 26.

The method for constructing this is simple, it being only neces-
sary to select three pairs of numbers for each sphere and place the
complementaries diametrically opposite each other.

Fig. 33 is the same as the last example with the exception that

466

THE MONIST.

two of the circles do not give the constant total of 26 ; but with this
sacrifice, however, we are able to get twelve additional summations
of 26, which are shown by the dotted circles in Figs. 34, 35 and
36. Fig. 34 shows the vertical receding plane of eight numbers;
Fig. 35, the horizontal plane ; and Fig. 36, the plane parallel to the
picture, the latter containing the two concentric circles that do not
give totals of 26.

Fig. 28.

In this example all pairs are placed on radial lines with one
number in each sphere which satisfies the summations of the twelve
dotted circles. The selections for the four concentric circles are
shown in Fig. 37. The full lines show the selections for Fig. 34
and the dotted lines for Fig. 35. It is impossible to get constant
totals for all six concentric circles.

Fig. 38 is a sphere containing the series I, 2, 3 98, ar-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

467

ranged in fifteen circles of sixteen numbers each, with totals of 792.
It contains six 3X3 magic squares, two of which, each form the
nucleus of a 5X5 concentric square. Also, the sum of any two dia-
metrically opposite numbers is 99.

POLES - I • • 62

ARCTIC AND
ANTARCTIC CIRCLES

TROPICS OF CANCER
AND CAPRICORN

EQUATOR «

Fig. 29.

31-

To construct this figure, we must select two complementary
sets of 25 numbers each, that will form the two concentric squares ;

468

THE MONIST.

and four sets of 9 numbers each, to form the remaining squares, the
four sets to be selected in two complementary pairs.

This selection is shown in Fig. 39, in which the numbers en-
closed in full and dotted circles represent the selection for the front
and back concentric squares respectively. The numbers marked with
T, B, L and R represent the selections for the top, bottom, left and
right horizon squares respectively.

Fig. 30.

After arranging the numbers in the top horizon square, we
locate the complementary of each number, diametrically opposite
and accordingly form the bottom square. The same method is used
in placing the left and right square.

The numbers for the front concentric square are duplicated in
Fig. 40. The numbers marked by dot and circle represent the selec-
tion for the nucleus square, and the diagram shows the selections

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

469

Fig- 32-

Fig. 33-

Fig- 34-

Fig 35-

Fig. 36.

Fig. 37-

470

THE MONIST.

for the sides of the surrounding panel, the numbers 4, 70, 34 and 40
forming the corners.

By placing the complementaries of each of the above 25 num-
bers, diametrically opposite, we form the rear concentric square.

After forming the six squares, we find there are twelve num-
bers left, which are shown in Fig. 41. These are used to form the
four horizon triads. Two pairs are placed on the central circle, and
by selection, as shown in the diagram, we fill in the other two

Fig. 38.

circles with complementary numbers diametrically opposite. The
above selection is such that it forms two groups of numbers, each
with a summation of 198 ; this being the amount necessary to com-
plete the required summations of the horizon circles.

There are many selections, other than those shown in Fig. 39,
which could have been taken. A much simpler one would be to
select the top 25 pairs for the front and back concentric squares,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

471

T-2
3-L

T-5

57-a

94 -B

(7) 3K

T-8 9T-B

9-L 1-90

(JO) 89

II 88

12 -L R-87

14 85

15-L R-84

8-17 82 -T

18 -L R-81

® *t'

8-20 79-T

21 -L «-78

76 -T
24-L R-75

27- L R-7Z

<a jTi;

."68:

T-43

60 -B

57-e

5*-S

48 51

Fig. 39-

Fig. 41.

472 THE MONIST.

the next 9 pairs for the top and bottom squares, the next 9 pairs for
the left and right squares, and the remaining 6 pairs for the triads.
In such a selection, all the numbers in each square would be in se-
quence.

HARRY A. SAYLES.

SCHENECTADY, N. Y.

THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE CRIMINOLOGICAL IN-
STITUTE IN ST. PETERSBURG.

On the 24th day of January, 1908, a new institution of learning,
the Criminological Institute, was opened in St. Petersburg. It can
be regarded as the first sprout of the young science of criminology
with its related philosophical and sociological branches of knowl-
edge.

This newly established institution, a branch of the Psycho-
Neurological Institute, should be named the "Bechterew" Institute,1
since it was called into life through the indefatigable energy and
creative power of the President of the Psycho-Neurological Institute,
the academician W. M. Bechterew.

Through the wicked irony of fate, the idea of founding a crim-
inological institute was carried into effect, not in Western Europe,
where it had been presented by many competent adepts and was
often the topic in International Congresses, but, horrible to relate,
with us in Russia, and even at a time when there were hanging
over the Russian universities political clouds of a threatening nature.

In this sense, the founding of the Criminological Institute in St.
Petersburg is very instructive. This fortunate and symptomatic
event shows that dark powers which usually chill social self-activity
were not able to smother the impulses of creative mind and personal
initiative.

The Criminological Institute of St. Petersburg is the first private
institution in the world of this kind, and its founding is due to Pro-
fessor Bechterew alone.

But an alliance of criminologists, Professors List of Berlin,
Prince of Brussels, and Van Hammel of Amsterdam, formed in 1880
(the Russian group in this alliance was formed in 1899) , was similar
in its leading ideas to the Russian Criminological Institute. Although
this alliance had for its task the study of crime as a social evil, yet

xThe well-known zoologist, Prof. W. A. Wagner, was the one to suggest
this name.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 473

Professor Bechterew finds this tendency, so to speak, only a quiet
acquiescence, but in no sense a declaration of the principle, which
in the field of criminal science makes the dogmatic and subjective
method the principal one and in this sense seeks to reconcile the
anthropological, sociological and juristical schools, and, therefore,
is called the eclectic school.2

Under such conditions, the work of the International Crimino-
logical Alliance must consist, not so much in the many-sided scien-
tific treatment of the fundamental principles of criminology, as in
ascertaining rational measures to combat growing criminality in the
population. This last feature of the International Criminological
Alliance indicates, in spite of outward similarity to the work of the
Criminological Institute, a great difference between the two.

As the president of the Psycho-Neurological Institute has kindly
placed at my disposal the material to be used, I will endeavor to
point out in cursory lines the salient factors in this new growth of
criminology.

The Criminological Institute in St. Petersburg, however strange
it may sound, was not established by the criminologists, but by the
well-known Russian psycho-neurologist, the academician, W. M.
Bechterew. He is a keen observer in the field of experimental psy-
chology and an earnest opponent of the dominant subjective school,
and has laid a solid scientific foundation for the new so-called Ob-
jective School of psychology. This is shown in a series of his pub-
lished works.

The new Objective School substitutes for the juristical dog-
matic method of criminal law a new method, namely, the objective
psychological method which treats the soul of the criminal, not after
the analogy of the soul of a normal social being, but as an objective
psychological phenomenon, entirely independent of the subjective
consciousness of the criminal.

Starting from this point of view, the academician, W. M. Bech-
terew, proposed to the Council of the Psycho-Neurological Institute
(on January 12, 1908) to found upon their institute an independent
Criminological Institute. Recently Professor Bechterew, in a report
upon this question, said, "There is manifest in the learned world
a very earnest desire to investigate fundamentally the criminal
world." From a report of Arthur MacDonald, of Washington, D. C.,
to the Amsterdam Congress of Criminal Anthropology, it was

"W. M. Bechterew: "The Objective-psychological Method" (citation by
me from manuscript of author).

474 THE MONIST.

learned that a criminological institute had already been established
in the Argentine Republic.

In order to meet an urgent need that had long since been felt
not only in scientific but in social life, Arthur MacDonald proposed
the establishment of an International Criminological Institute. It
was very desirable to found such a special criminological institute
upon the Psycho-Neurological Institute. This proposition was favor-
ably considered by the Council of the Psycho-Neurological Institute.
A special commission was appointed to work out the question con-
cerning the establishment, program and regulations of the new in-
stitution.3

This commission consisted of the following professors and do-
cents of the Psycho-Neurological Institute: W. M. Bechterew, the
President; M. M. Kowalewsky, D. A. Dril, S. K. Gogel, W. N.
Speransky, A. L. Tschegloff, S. O. Grusenberg, A. T. Gribojedoff
and L. G. Orschansky. These specialists in a series of meetings
worked out the fundamental rules and plan of scientific work for
the new institute.

The following fundamental propositions were decided upon:

The first work of the Criminological Institute as a special in-
stitution of learning, must consist above all things in a broad, scien-
tific study of crime, and of those social and economical factors which
this abnormal phenomenon of the social life calls forth. Further,
says Bechterew, "the Criminological Institute must provide for a
fundamental systematizing of the scientific material, which explains
the problem of criminality. And for this reason the causes which
generate and nourish crime must be investigated and the most useful
means for rational combat against growing criminality must be
found. Systematic research in the field of criminal anthropology
and physiological psychology must not be neglected. In order to
come in closer touch with criminals and thereby to become better
acquainted with their peculiarities, it would be very desirable for
the professors of the Institute to obtain permission to enter the
prisons. Also it would be very useful to make observations upon
the criminal youth who are pupils in the agricultural colonies."

* An article by Arthur MacDonald, entitled "Plan for the Study of Man,"
was published by the Imperial Academy of Sciences of St. Petersburg in its
Bulletin for February, 1908, pp. 136-143. This article is developed in its de-
tails in two Senate Documents, one entitled "Man and Abnormal Man," and the
other "Juvenile Crime and Reformation, Including Stigmata of Degeneration."
These documents might be obtained gratis through any U. S. senator or repre-
sentative, or by sending the nominal prices (40 and 25 cents) to the Super-
intendent of Documents at the Government Printing Office. — Tr.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 475

Prof. D. A. Dril, an earnest defender of the doctrine that crime
is a product of the social organism and the social conditions in which
the criminal lives, finds that the study of the problem of criminality
without previous investigation of the social phenomena, which gen-
erate it, is impossible. The coming science in western Europe, the
study of pauperism, is concerned with various investigations of the
surroundings of the poorest classes in the population which are pro-
ductive of much crime. "Up to the present time," says Prof. D. A.
Dril, "the criminal has been considered by the learned from two
different points of view : the natural history, which regards the crim-
inal as a being in and for himself without any relation to society;
and the sociological, which directs its attention solely to the relation
of the criminal to society and entirely ignores him as an independent
personality with special psychical structure. The main work of the
Criminological Institute should consist in supplysing these deficien-
cies by the study of the mind of the criminal."

The director of the agricultural colony for young criminals,
M. P. Bekleschofp, emphasizes the importance of observation of
these criminals by their teachers as valuable material for study, and
he desires to organize special courses for the teachers in the houses
of correction.

Professor Tschigloff also spoke favorably of the early founda-
tion of a criminological institute in St. Petersburg and proposed
that a special commission have charge of working out the details
and regulations of such a school.

After long conferences as to the program for the Criminological
Institute the members of the commission, on the I7th of April, 1908,
came to the following conclusion : The new scientific institution, the
Criminological Institute, must have as its principal work a many-
sided and thorough study of the criminal himself as well as of his
outward surroundings, which lead to crime, and must strive to find
rational methods for lessening crime.

This resolution was approved by the Council of professors of the
Psycho-Neurological Institute, and thus the question of establishing
a criminological institute in St. Petersburg was solved.

In order that the professors of the Institute might have easy
access to the prisons, the commission (in its meeting of May 13)
decided to make this request of the Minister of Justice, which was
subsequently granted.

In order to raise the educational standard of those teaching
juvenile criminals, the commission of professors decided to request

476 THE MONIST.

the Council of the Psycho-Neurological Institute to found courses
of instruction for teachers in houses of correction.

SIMEON GRUSENBERG.
PSYCHO-NEUROLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF ST. PETERSBURG.

The following subjects will be treated in the Criminological
Institute: (i) History of crime; (2) Criminal sociology; (3) The
combat against crime; (4) Criminal law; (5) The doctrine of ju-
dicial tribunals on criminal law; (6) History of juridical political
doctrines; (7) Comparative history of law; (8) History of econom-
ical doctrines; (9) Legal medicine; (10) Criminal anthropology,
and psychology of crime; (n) General psychopathology ; (12)
Forensic psychiatry; (13) Pathological psychology; (14) Hyp-
notism and doctrine of suggestion.

BOOK REVIEWS AND NOTES.

ANTI-PRAGMATISM. An Examination Into the Respective Rights of Intel-
lectual Aristocracy and of Social Democracy. By Albert Schinz. Bos-
ton : Small, Maynard & Co., 1909. Pp. 317.

The Monist has published an analysis of the French edition of this book,
in the July number, 1909, pp. 474-475. Its author, now Associate Professor
of French Literature in Bryn Mawr College, was formerly "Professeur agrege
de philosophic" at the University of Neuchatel. The English edition contains
some new features : ( I ) A "warning" in which the author asks his readers
to remember that he does not attack a pragmatic conception of life, but only
a pragmatic philosophy. (2) The author has taken the trouble in many cases
to refer to other philosophers who simultaneously with him had addressed
objections to pragmatists similar to his own (e. g., Bakewell, Car us, Creigh-
ton, Hibben, etc.) and to emphasize the unanimity of critics on both sides of
the ocean. (3) In an Appendix : "Answer to Various Criticisms," Mr. Schinz
begins by exposing the comfortable argument of silence so profusely used by
pragmatists. They have been accused repeatedly of ignoring the criticisms
directed against them by simply declaring that others did not understand them,
or refusing to see the real point at issue. They say that pragmatism is not
subjectivism, but they do not prove it. All their opponents agree on that
point; therefore Mr. Schinz asks whether it is not perhaps "the pragmatists
who refuse to see the point at issue." Mr. Schiller (in Mind) has protested
against the dilemma of the author of Anti-Pragmatism, viz., either prag-
matism recognizes the rights of reason, and then it is not different from any
philosophy; or it does not recognize those rights, then it has a right to the
claim of being a new philosophy, but because it is irrational — is false. Mr.
Schinz maintains his position by new quotations from Schiller's books. Mr.
Schinz replies to those who accuse him of considering pragmatism as a low
sort of utilitarianism. He also meets the question of Naville of Geneva:
If science is bad morally for the masses, why should it not be bad for the
intellectual aristocracy also? Finally to those who tell him that his view-
point is not anti-pragmatic but hyperpragmatic (Paulhan, Compayre, Faguet,
Schiller) the author says that for him pragmatism as a social doctrine is not
bad, but philosophically it is false. We find that truth is morally bad; why
then should we not, for the benefit of humanity, preach something better,
which is not true? For pragmatists good and true agree; for Mr. Schinz
they do not

THE MONIST.

DIE GESCHICHTE UND DIE WURZEL DES SATZES VON DER ERHALTUNG DER ARBEIT.

By E. Mach. Leipsic : Barth, 1909. Pp. 60.

This little book was one of the first publications of Professor Mach and
lays the foundation for all his future work. It treats the problem of the con-
servation of energy, and discusses its philosophical foundation. The old edi-
tion has been exhausted and to some extent replaced by his later books, espe-
cially his Science of Mechanics, in which he treats the same problem in con-
nection with all other problems of science, though especially mechanics. His
conclusion, to state it briefly, is that the nature of science consists in an
economy of thought. While the first edition has to some extent been super-
seded by Professor Mach's more complete labors there is still a continuous
call for the book, and many of the author's friends and admirers have insisted
on its republication. Accordingly Professor Mach now presents it to his
readers in an unchanged form, accompanied by a brief foreword of explana-
tion.

ETHICS. By John Dewey and James H. Tufts. New York: Holt, 1908.

Pp. 6ia

This volume is a by no means unimportant member of Holt's American
Science Series and brings within the scope of junior students the accumulated
results of the science of morals up to the present day. Its confessed purpose
is to awaken in the student "a vital conviction of the genuine reality of moral
problems and the value of reflective thought in dealing with them." The
twenty-five chapters following the introduction are grouped in three parts.
The first (written by Professor Tufts) is historical in character, treating not
of the history of science, but of the beginnings and growth of morality. Here
in the discussion of early group life and the transition first from group to
personal morality, from tribal custom to individual conscience, followed by
the development of morals among the Hebrews and Greeks, and later through
the Middle Ages to the modern period, and closing with a comparison of a
code of morals founded upon customs and that based upon reflective thought,
the presentation of historical material is subordinated to the main purpose,
as above quoted, of arousing a sense of the reality of ethical problems. To
this purpose is likewise subordinated the theoretical interpretation contrib-
uted in Part II by Professor Dewey where problems and types of moral
character are treated, as well as the relation of conduct to character and
happiness, and the place of reason, of duty, and'of self in the moral life. The
joint authors share in the preparation of Part III which is devoted to the
application of ethics to "The World of Action." Here we have an exposition
of the relation of the individual to the social organization, and of the prin-
ciples and problems of economic and political life, including also a discussion
of the family and its relation both to the individual and to the state.

THE EARLIEST COSMOLOGIES. By William Fairfield Warren. New York:

Eaton & Mains. Pp. 222. Price $1.50 net.

In his capacity as professor of comparative theology and philosophy of
religion in Boston University during the thirty years of his presidency, Pro-
fessor Warren was constantly made aware of the fact that the latest and most
authoritative discussions of the pre-Copernican conceptions of the universe

BOOK REVIEWS AND NOTES. 479

have been hopelessly contradictory and therefore bewildering. He has made
a most careful study of the subject and now offers this "Guidebook for be-
ginners in the study of ancient literatures and religions," because he rightly
judges a knowledge of the world-view to be of fundamental importance in
correctly understanding the religious philosophy or science of any people.
Of great value is Dr. Warren's solution of the conflicting notions of the
ancient Hebrew cosmology, but of perhaps most vital interest is his new
view of the Babylonian heavens and earth, since it renders great assistance
towards a comprehension of all the other ancient world-conceptions.

The book discusses the Hebrew universe as commonly pictured, and as
pictured by Schiaparelli, then his new interpretation of the Babylonian uni-
verse and those of the Bible, Talmud and the Koran in the light of this new
view, followed in turn by the Egyptian, Homeric, Indo-Iranian, and Bud-
dhistic universes. The text concludes with problems along which work for
the future may profitably be directed. An appendix contains papers on
various phases of the general subject which have appeared in different period-
icals, and an index of authors and one of subjects completes the volume.

LES FUNCTIONS MENTALES DANS LES SOCIETES INFERIEURES. Par L. LM-Bruhl.

Paris: Alcan, 1910. Pp. 461. Price 7 fr. 50.

M. Levy-Bruhl mentions as characteristics of "collective representations,"
that they are common to the members of a given social group, are transmitted
from generation to generation and that they arouse in individuals sentiments
of respect, fear or adoration for their objects, as the case may be. The laws
peculiar to these "collective representations" cannot be discovered by the
study of the "civilized white adult," but light may be thrown on our own
categories and logical principles by a consideration of these collective repres-
entations and their connection in primitive grades of society. Doubtless the
method will lead in time to a new and positive theory of cognition founded
on the comparative method, but this result can only be accomplished by a
series of efforts, and Professor Levi-Bruhl hopes to facilitate matters by at-
tempting in the present volume to determine the most general laws which
govern collective representations in lower grades of society. The book has
no index but is provided with a careful analytical table of contents which enu-
merates in detail the contents of the chapters on the following topics: Col-
lective representations in the perceptions of primitive people and their mystical
character; the law of participation; the operations of pre-logical mentality;
the mentality of primitive people in relation to the languages they speak ; pre-
logical mentality and its relation to enumeration; institutions in which are
implied collective representations governed by the law of participation; tran-
sition to higher types of mentality.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF CHANGE. By D. P. Rhodes. New York: Macmillan,

1009. Pp.389.

Another more or less logical consequence of the prevalent philosophy of
pragmatism appears under this rather non-committal title. The author fills
a long preface with warnings to prepare the reader for what he is to meet with.
The purpose of the work is expressly stated as "to show that truth has never
been, and cannot now be, demonstrated by man as a whole or in any part ; that

480 THE MONIST.

all our so-called truths are of necessity merely errors making in the direction
of that universal truth which can never be attained but once, and once at-
tained, cannot endure. But — and this is to be well noted — once this truth is
supplanted by error, this error can have no other goal than universal truth.
As with truth, so with happiness, which will be found to be indistinguish-
able from truth. It will be shown that, did we once attain happiness, pur
chief concern would be lest it should endure, — i. e., if we could have any con-
cerns when we had attained absolute truth."

The philosophy of change is set forth in the first three chapters which fill
more than half of the book, while six short chapters are intended to define
the general trend of the theory and the probable consequences of its adoption
by mankind.

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE DER UNZEITGEMASSE. Von Karl Knorts. Annaberg:

Graser, 1909. Pp. 93.

While Professor Knortz believes that Nietzsche lived in advance of his
times, that the world was not yet ripe to grasp the lofty concept of the super-
man, yet the chief merit he claims for the philosopher of immorality is the
comparatively modest one of having greatly aroused the interest of educated
men in philosophical questions. The introduction of the present work sets
forth Nietzsche's right to rank as a philosopher, and the three following chap-
ters are devoted to his relations with Strauss, Wilhelm Jordan and Wagner.
Then the author discusses Nietzsche's attitude with regard to pity, religion,
the state in its relation to the individual and the criminal, and of course also
his theory of the superman. One valuable service which Professor Knortz
renders to students of Nietzsche in this publication, is the compilation of a
very thorough Nietzsche-bibliography containing more than two hundred
titles of articles and books in German, French, English and Italian.

Hans Pichler has published an essay Ueber die Erkennbarkeit der Gegen-
st'dnde (Vienna: Braumiiller, 1909). The author states that the systematic
data are based analytically upon the question of the conditions of cognition.
After the book had gone to press he discovered that Christian Wolff had al-
ready said much of what there is to say with regard to the knowability of ob-
jects, but he considers his own work as an introduction to Wolff's theory.

Thinking that Wolff's attempts to establish a science of objects have not
been duly appreciated hitherto, Mr. Pichler follows this work with a critical
presentation of Wolff's ontology (Ueber Chr. Wolffs Ontologie. Leipsic:
Diirr, 1910. Price 2m.).

The January number of the Archiv fur Rechts- und Wirthschaftsphilo-
sophie, the organ of the International Association for the Philosophy of Law
and Industry (editor, Dr. Josef Kohler of Berlin) contains an announcement
of the 1910 meeting of the Association, and gives a provisional program and
a history of the members. A recent interesting supplement to the Archiv is by
Dr. Eugen Sulz on Hegel's philosophische Begriindung des Strafrechts and
another by Dr. R. Slawitschek of Prague bears the title Beitrage zur offentlich-
rechtlichen Begriffskonstruktion.

VOL. XX. OCTOBER, 1910. NO. 4.

THE MONIST

TRUTH.

THE WORD "TRUTH" IN EUROPEAN LANGUAGES.

THE words true, truth, troth, trust, trust er, trustee,
truce, etc., are derived from an old Teutonic root
which appears also in the modern German words treu,
"faithful," trauen, "to have confidence," and also Trost,
which means originally "rest" or "assurance," then "re-
liance," and finally "comfort" or "solace."

The noun truth is formed from true by the ending th
in the same way as wealth from weal (prosperity), health
from hale (sound), dearth from dear (scarce), and hearth
from a word now lost corresponding to the Gothic kauri
and Icelandic hyrr meaning "coal," a "cinder" or "em-
ber."

By "truth" we generally understand the trustworthi-
ness or reliability of an idea. According to the etymology
of the word, truth is that which endures, that which con-
tinues to remain the same, that which stands the test and
is not subject to change.

The German words wahr and Wahrheit are most prob-
ably derived from the root WAS, the infinitive of which in
Old German is wesen, "to be," "to exist." Derivatives
of this root are preserved in the English "was" and "were."
The German word wahr must originally have denoted ac-

482 THE MONIST.

tual existence, and then acquired the meaning "true" in
the sense that what we think is, actually exists.

The English word "worth" as well^as its German equiv-
alent Wert are probably connected with the same root
from which wahr, "true," is derived. It means originally
the quality of having substance or reality, that which is
wahr or truly being; that which is reliable, because it
endures.

The German word wahr has no direct connection with
the Latin verus\ at any rate it is not derived from it, for
it existed among the Saxons as well as the Germans and
other Germanic nations before Roman civilization began to
influence northern Europe; but it is not impossible that
verus is derived from the same root, WAS, which is common
to all the Indo-Germanic nations.

In Anglo-Saxon, the word war, "true," meant the same
as the German wahr, but it was replaced in English by
"true," the German treu, meaning faithful. Judging from
the Gothic word tuzwers, "doubtful," the Goths must also
have had the root of the German wahr ; it was presumably
pronounced wers, but at the time of Ulfila the term sunjis
("true," the root of which is SA or AS, as it appears, for
instance, in the German sein and in asmi, efyn, sum and
am) was used in its stead.

If we attempt to reproduce the Gothic sunjis in modern
German, we might render it seinig, analogous to an Eng-
lish formation, be-ish.

The German affirmation ja, "yes," and its English
equivalent yea mean "it is true" and are derived from a
root which appears in the Old-High-German verb jehan,
"to own, to confess, to profess." In Old-Saxon it reads ja
and in Anglo-Saxon gea orge-swa, the latter being an
amplification meaning "yea thus" or "yea so," and was
contracted into gese, from which the modern word yes is
derived.

TRUTH. 483

The root of jehan appears also in the German word
Beichte, "confession," which is derived from the verb be-
jehan, or later be-ichten.

How far ja is connected with je (Old-High-German
ie) is doubtful.

The word ie or iwe (English ever) is preserved in the
German je and ewig, "eternal." The same root has produced
the German Ehe, "marriage," denoting the alliance be-
tween husband and wife destined to last forever. In Greek
the word aiow, an unlimited long period, is etymologically
the same as the German Ehe. The h in Ehe corresponds
to a digamma (pronounced v) in the old Greek aivon as
well as the German ewig, but it disappears in the Attic
pronunciation of the Greek auw, as well as in its English
derivative "eon."

The German wahren, "to guard" and wdhren (the lat-
ter etymologically the same as the English "wear" in the
sense "to last," "to endure") are also kin to wahr, but
here the idea of existence has been changed to that of per-
sistence.

How far, and whether at all, the old Slovenian word
vera, "faith," and the Irish fir, "truth," are etymologically
related to the Teutonic word war, "true," or the root WAS,
"real," is doubtful.

In Greek the word aX^eta means that which is not
hidden, that which can be beheld unconcealed, that which
is not masked, or does not put on a false show.

In the Slavic languages truth is called pravda (in Polish
spelled prawda) and in Croatia it is called istina.

The Hungarian word for truth is igaz, and from this
same root are derived a number of other words, such as
igazsag, literally "truthhood," denoting "justice," igeret,
"promise," and igen, "yes" or "yea."

In addition there exists a special word ige which means
truth in a religious sense and denotes especially the scrip-

484 THE MONIST.

tures, or the Bible, or the word of God. Since Hungarian
is a non-European language, the roots of which are differ-
ent from any Aryan speech, it is difficult to trace the
original meaning of these words, but the several derivatives
prove that the original meaning can not be much different
from their English equivalents, true, truth, troth, and yea
or yes, "it is true," as an affirmation.

THE HEBREW, THE EGYPTIAN AND THE CHINESE NOTIONS

OF TRUTH.

In Hebrew there are several words denoting truth, but
all of them denote what will last or will stand inquiry.
The words 'omen as well as emeth are derived from verbal
stems which mean "to be firm."1 The former verb atnan
has entered into the New Testament and thence into all
modern languages in the shape of Amen, "verily," which
literally means "it stands firm," or "it is true."

Netsakh2 means originally glory, brightness, then last-
ingness and truth, while the affirmation yetseb is used to
denote that which will stand in court, being derived from
yatzab.5

The Chaldee word Qeshot* "truth," is derived from
Qashat, "to divide evenly," "to make equal," "to measure
off rightly," and is connected with words meaning a pair
of balances and weights. The underlying idea of the con-

ception is the determination of exact measure.

* * *

In Egyptian truth is called Ma' at, represented as a
goddess with an ostrich feather, a figure which is different
from all other gods in so far as she plays no part in mythol-
ogy, except that she is called the daughter of Ra, the Sun-

1 The word ^'X is derived from "jttX, "to be firm," and np$ from flttX, "to
be stable."

2 Two forms, njJi and H^iJ, are in use, both being derived from l"!5Jj.

3 3VT from 3JT, "to stand in court."

truth, and !"J^$p, weight, are both derived from

TRUTH.

485

god, and is commissioned with weighing the heart of the
soul in the underworld before the throne of Osiris. Other-
wise she is the personification of truth and right, but the

HORUS WEIGHING THE HEART IN
THE UNDERWORLD *

ANCIENT BREASTPLATE
REFERRED TO IN TEXT.

A GOVERNOR OF RAMESES IX.
From Erman, Life in Ancient Egypt.

THE GODDESS MAAT.
From Budge's Mummy, p. 29.

abstract idea of the term has been and has always remained
uppermost in the minds of the Egyptian people. She is

* In the scale is the hieroglyphic for truth.

486 THE MONIST

also spoken of in the dual form ma'ati, "the two truths,"
as the goddess who attends to both punishments and re-
wards.

The goddess Ma'at is repeatedly mentioned in the oldest
extant Egyptian inscription which praises King Unas be-
cause "he loved truth (maa) . . . and the double truth
(maati) has heard him. . .the double truth has given com-
mand to let him pass through the realm of Seb, and to
make him rise at his pleasure. . . .And Unas cometh forth
on this day as the fruit of the truth (maa) of a living soul
. . . Unas cometh forth according to the truth, which brings
him his desire."

The adjective maa means "straight" or "level," then
"right" or "due," and also "genuine" or "real."

The emblem of Ma'at is the ostrich feather. As a god-
dess Ma'at is the patron of justice, and it is reported that
the chief judge wore her picture on a chain upon his breast.
The breastplate here reproduced shows Ma'at and the
hawkheaded Ra, seated on either side of an obelisk. The
picture of a governor under Rameses IX shows him in
his capacity as a judge, holding the ostrich feather of truth

in his left hand.

* * *

The Chinese word for "truth" is J$ chan, which is a
compound of the two characters A jan, "man," and 1ft
chih, "upright." The character jan appears in the two
strokes underneath the word chan. The word "upright"
is a compound of three radicals, which are ~f* shih, "ten,"
@ "eye," and L an abbreviation of HI yin, which means
"hidden." The whole compound character is explained in
the Chinese dictionaries as "ten eyes see the hidden." The
word "ten" also means "perfect" or "complete," and so it
might as well mean, "a perfect vision of the hidden."5

"The character chan, "truth," is found in Chinese dictionaries under the
radical No. 109, meaning "eye," as accompanied by five strokes.

TRUTH. 487

As the character chan, "truth," now reads, the radical
shih, "ten," on top of the old way of writing chan, is re-
placed by the radical No. 21, b pi, "ladle," in the sense
"to compare" or "to change," and in this form the word
is explained according to the Taoist notion as referring
to the changes which spiritual beings or fairies undergo.
In explanation of this view we must state that under the
influence of mysticism the "true man" has come to denote
first a purely spiritual person, then a magician who can
change his shape at will.

The adjective "truthful" in Chinese is fit sin, and the
character consists of A "man" (in compounds on the left
side written thus 4 ) , and the word It yen, the latter being
composed of P "mouth" and four strokes above it, mean-
ing "what comes out of the mouth." The whole character
"truthful" accordingly depicts "a man standing by his
word," a pictorial description than which certainly no
better could be invented.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE NATURE OF TRUTH.

Before we enter into further explanations of the sig-
nificance of truth we will hear what philosophers have said
about it, how they define it and what they think about it.

But since many of their statements are vague and un-
clear, it will render a review of their definitions easier if
we know the state of things which suggested the coinage
of the word. It is advisable for this reason that we under-
stand exactly why and how the word originated and what
we ourselves mean by truth. If we are clear ourselves
we shall the quicker see what our predecessors intended
to say even when they missed the point or could not find the
right expression.

The need of communicating our intentions, our re-
quests and our ideas concerning things has produced lan-
guage ; but incidentally while this purpose is fulfilled, Ian-

THE MONIST.

guage accomplishes a task which grows in importance;
it clarifies the mind, it begets abstract ideas and thereby
produces that order in the methods of thought which is
called reason. The speaking animal becomes a rational
being.

All speech is representative. Every word stands for
something, and every sentence either is itself a declara-
tion or implies one. Every statement refers to some object
of thought which may be anything or of any kind and need
not be a bodily and concrete object. It may be a mere
relation and even, as in mathematics, a purely mental
conception, or the product of a mental function.

A declaration may describe its object of thought cor-
rectly or incorrectly, appropriately or inappropriately,
with exactness or inadequately. In the former case it is
called true; in the latter false, erroneous, untrue or in-
complete.

When we ask what truth means, we must first bear in
mind that truth always refers to a statement made con-
cerning some fact. If the statement describes the fact as
it is, it is called "true." We do not speak of facts as being
true; facts are either "real" or "unreal." The existence
of the chair, the table, the pen is not called "true," but the
statement that the chair on which I sit, or the table on
which I write, has four legs, is either "true" or "untrue."
A statement, as a rule, can be verified. We can count the
legs of the table, and if we count to four we say, "It is true
that the table has four legs."

Truth accordingly consists in a relation. There is a
subjective statement and an objective condition of things.
Truth means that the former properly describes or repre-
sents the latter. If I investigate and find my expectations
fulfilled, I call the statement true, and this correspondence,
this congruence of thought and thing, is called truth.

TRUTH. 489

THE PHILOSOPHERS OF CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY.

A review of philosophical definitions of truth must
naturally be very incomplete, because not every philos-
opher has left a succinct exposition of the subject, and what
we have to offer here is practically a mere compilation
of extracts made from the history of philosophy, having
no other merit than that they furnish a brief synopsis of
various views and explanations.

We will introduce our collection with a quotation from
the literature of the Old Testament Apocrypha, which is
not a definition but an appreciation of truth. It is not
philosophical but religious and reflects in general and emo •
tional language the reverence in which truth is held by
mankind. We read in I Esdras, iv. 38-40:

"As for the truth, it endureth, and is always strong ; it liveth
and conquereth for evermore.

"With her there is no accepting of persons or rewards ;6 but she
doeth the things that are just, and refraineth from all unjust and
wicked things; and all men do well like of her works.

"Neither in her judgment is any unrighteousness; and she is
the strength, kingdom, power, and majesty of all ages. Blessed be
the God of truth."

By turning from the Jewish literature to Greek philos-
ophy we must regret the absence of any definition of truth
among the oldest thinkers, since, with the exception of
a few extracts, quotations and general characterizations,
their writings have been lost.

The oldest Greek philosopher whose definition of truth
has been preserved is Parmenides of Elea. He was born
about 515 B. C, flourished in the beginning of the fifth
century and must have been advanced in years in the time
of Socrates. He was the philosopher of pure being to
whom reality appeared as merely phenomenal, and ac-

"In the place of "rewards," the word "privileges" would perhaps better
convey the meaning of the text

49O THE MONIST.

cording to him truth consists in the knowledge that being
is and not-being cannot be. The error accordingly arises
through the belief that not-being exists. This view of
Parmenides is preserved in a passage repeatedly quoted.
which according to Proclus in his commentary on Plato's
Timaeus (II, 105 b) reads thus:7

"Listen and I will iustruct thee — and thou, when thou nearest, shalt

ponder,

One path is : That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not ;
This is the way of conviction, for Truth follows hard in her foot-

steps.

The other path is : That Being is not, and Non-Being must be ;
This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway.
For thou never canst know what is not (for none can conceive it)
Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are Thinking and

Being."

We must remember that Parmenides identified pure
existence with the absolute conception of pure being, thus
identifying existence with pure thought. Plotinus quotes
from him, "For one thing are thinking and being," which
is thought to belong at the end of the passage just quoted,
and has therefore been included with it.

Plato was greatly influenced by Parmenides and recon-
ciled his views with the philosophy of Heraclitus, whose
system is characterized by the phrase travra. /5et, "Every-
thing is in a flux." Plato's view of truth is condensed by
Ueberweg as follows:8

"Plato opens the exposition of his physics in the Tim. (p. 28 et
seq.} with the affirmation that since the world bears the form of
yo/cais (development, becoming) and not that of true being (ovsia)
nothing absolutely certain can be laid down in this field of investi-
gation, but only what is probable (ei/corcs /«50oi). Our knowledge
of nature bears not the characters of science OTICT/M) or of the

T The passage as quoted here is translated from Mullach's Fragmenta
Philosophorum Graecorum by Thomas Davidson in the Journal of Speculative
Philosophy, Vol. IV, No. I (January, 1870).

'History of Philosophy, New York, Scribners, 1903, I, 125.

TRUTH. 491

knowledge of truth (aXrjdeia), but those of belief (iri<m«). Plato
says (Tim., p. 290) : "What being is to becoming, that is truth to

faith" (o TI ?rep TT/JOS ye'veo-iv ovaia, TOVTO Trpos irianv dAi/0eia). What

Plato says in the Phaedo, p. H4d, explains his idea of the probable:
'Firmly to assert that this is exactly as I have expressed it, befits
not a man of intelligence ; yet that it is either so or something like it
(on rj TOUT' ecrrtv 17 roiavr' arra) must certainly be assumed.' "

Aristotle's definition of truth commends itself more
than Plato's to the scientist, and has been summed up by
Ueberweg thus (op. cit., I, 152):

"Truth in a logical judgment is the correspondence of the com-
bination of mental representations with a combination of things, or
(in the case of the negative judgment) the correspondence of a
separation of representations in the mind with a separation of things ;
falsity in judgments is the variation of the ideal combination or
separation from the real relation of the things to which the judg-
ments relate."

Further down Ueberweg says concerning Aristotle:

"Truth in knowledge is the agreement of knowledge with real-
ity (Cat eg., C. 12: TW yap etvat TO irpayfw, 77 p.rj a\r)0ri<i o Aoyos r) \ftcv8rp:

Ae'y€T<u). This dictum is thus particularized, in Met., IV, 7, with
reference to the various possible cases: 'Affirming non-existence of
the existent, or existence of the non-existent, is falsehood ; but
affirming existence of the existent, and non-existence of the non-
existent, is truth.' "

The Stoics have devoted themselves to explaining the
method by which truth becomes known, or, as we would
now say, they lay much stress on epistemology or the
theory of cognition, better expressed by the Saxon for-
mation "kenlore." According to them all knowledge
arises from sense perception, and the fundamental crite-
rion of truth is found in the distinctness with which sense
perceptions are represented in the mind.

Epicurus, though very different from the Stoics in his
ethics, agrees closely with their theory of cognition. His

492 THE MONIST.

criteria of truth are sensation and feeling. To him all
sensations are true and indisputable.

Here Epicurus ought to have said that sensations are
the ultimate data from which we derive our knowledge,
but a sensation cannot properly be called true. It is simply
a fact.

That Epicurus confused truth and reality appears from
his contention that no perception can be proved false (he
means unreal) and that even dreams and the hallucinations
of the insane are true, because they produce an impression
which the non-existent could not do.

The images of past sensations are remembered, and
Epicurus calls them representations. Beliefs are called
true or false in so far as they are confirmed or refuted by
sensations. It is noteworthy that Epicurus disregarded
the value of logical syllogism because according to his view
no syllogism could supply the place of direct sensation. It
is interesting to note that this view is paralleled in India
by the materialist school, the Charvakas or Lokayatas,
who also deny that logical argument can carry conviction
because they claim that the only source of information is
sense-perception.

CHRISTIANITY AND THE DOCTRINE OF TWO TRUTHS.

Augustine understands by truth the norm according
to which reason argues, and he declares that it must be un-
changeable (De lib. arb., II, 3). To reach the unchange-
able is to him the attainment of truth. He says (De vera
rel, 72 f ) :

"If thou findest thy nature to be changeable, rise above thyself
to the eternal source of the light of reason. Even if thou only
knowest that thou doubtest, thou knowest what is true ; but nothing
is true unless truth exists. Hence it is impossible to doubt the
existence of the truth itself."

Truth and existence are the same according to St.

TRUTH. 493

Augustine, and he identifies them with God (De vera rel.,
57; De trin., VIII, 3). This ultimate truth is the highest
good in virtue of which all other blessings are good (De
trin., VIII, 4). Created things stand in a contrast to the
unchangeable highest good and thus indirectly the muta-
bility of created things reminds us of the immutability of
truth.

Thomas Aquinas defines truth as adaequatio intellectus
et rei, which is best translated as "agreement of thought
and thing."

During the Middle Ages the church claimed the author-
ity of a special divine revelation as the source of truth,
its truth, the truth of ecclesiastical dogmas.

In Spain where in a Mohammedan country a high
civilization had developed we find a distinction made be-
tween esoteric and exoteric truth. Revealed religion was
the truth made palatable to the masses, it was exoteric,
while esoteric truth was the special privilege of the thinker,
and it was not deemed necessary for the two to agree. In
a similar way and not without the influence of Averroes
and Maimonides the conflict between scientific truth and
religious truth led to the theory of the two truths, theolog-
ical and philosophical, and it was assumed that what is
true in theology need not be true in philosophy and vice
versa. Prof. M. Maywald has made a special study of this
strange aberration in his book Die Lehre von der zwei-
fachen Wahrheit, Berlin, 1871, and Windelband condenses
this subject in his History of Philosophy (pp. 320321) as
follows :

"If, by theology, we understand the exposition of the positive
doctrine of religion, arranged and defended according to the formal
laws of science, i. e., Aristotelian logic, — and this was the form
which the relation of theology to religion had taken in the West as
in the East, — it follows that something may be true theologically
which is not true philosophically, and vice versa. Thus is explained

494 THE MONIST.

that doctrine of the twofold truth, theological and philosophical,
which went through the entire Middle Ages, although we cannot
exactly fix the authorship of this formula. It is the adequate ex-
pression of the mental state necessarily brought about by the oppo-
sition of the two authorities under which the Middle Ages stood,
viz., Hellenistic science and religious tradition ; and while at a later
time it often served to protect scientific theories from the persecu-
tion of the church, it was for the most part, even in these cases, the
honest expression of the inner discord in which just the most im-
portant minds of the age found themselves.

"The science of the Christian peoples accepted this antithesis,
and while the doctrine of the twofold truth was expressly pro-
claimed by bold dialecticians such as Simon of Tournay, or John
of Brescia, and was all the more rigidly condemned by the power
of the church, the leading minds could not evade the fact that phi-
losophy, as it had been developed under the influence of Aristotle
and the Arabians, was, and must remain, in its inner nature, alien
to precisely those doctrines of the Christian religion which were
specific and distinctive."

The doctrine of the twofold truth found its most ener-
getic champion in the French savant Pierre Bayle. Albertus
Magnus had distinguished between natural and revealed
religion, but he clung to the idea that there might be no
contradiction between the two. He tried to show that
what science and philosophy teach holds good also in the-
ology, but that certain realms inaccessible to natural in-
sight (lumen naturale) could be entered only through the
mysteries of revelation. Pierre Bayle, however, went so
far as to declare that all doctrines of the church were posi-
tively contrary to reason, indeed that they were absurd
from the standpoint of science. He thus exemplified the
sentence credo quia absurdum. But the doctrine of the
double truth proved a two-edged sword and in the long
run served more to weaken than to establish confidence in
the traditional religious belief.

The church itself with its usual instinctive foresight
would not brook the doctrines of the twofold truth, and the

TRUTH. 495

Lateran Council of 1512 condemned this distinction and
pronounced everything false which stood in contradiction
to revelation.

MODERN THINKERS.

Spinoza inserts his definition of truth among the axioms,
in the sixth of which he states that "the true representa-
tion must agree with the object represented."

Hume is a skeptic and so has little to say about truth
except that all positive attempts at stating truth are futile.

Kant, who was awakened from his dogmatic slumber
by Hume's skepticism, so changed his attitude toward the
data of knowledge that instead of a conception of truth
he presents in his Critique of Pure Reason an inventory
of our faculty of working out sense experience into scien-
tific knowledge. He calls his system "critical idealism"
and says that since things-in-themselves are unknowable,
human knowledge is limited to phenomena. Thus it hap-
pens that reason is practically our norm of knowledge;
but it may not be accidental that he has nowhere discussed
the problem of truth. It is as if this problem had lost its
usual significance in his philosophy, and so we find that
the very caption of truth is not listed in Gustav Wegener's
Kant-Lexikon.

Schopenhauer adopts Kant's idealism, but he repeatedly
discusses the nature of truth and insists most emphatically
on its consistency, saying that truth alone agrees through-
out with itself and with nature while all wrong views clash
internally with themselves and externally with experience.
In fact experience protests step by step against errors.9
One truth can never upset another, but all must ultimately
agree because no contradiction is possible in intuition (An-
schauung} which is their common foundation. Thus no

• Cf. Gntndprobe der Ethik, 258, and Well als IVille und Vorstellung, II.
114.

496 THE MONIST.

truth can be in fear of another. Fraud and error, how-
ever, must stand in awe of every truth. All truths form
one system. They postulate and complement one another
while error collides everywhere.10 Schopenhauer distin-
guishes between general truths and special truths, and of
these he rates general truths the higher, as gold is more
valuable than silver. Gold can always be easily changed
into small coin.11

Schopenhauer distinguishes between correct, true, real
and evident, saying that concepts are correct, judgments
are true, material things are real, and interrelations such
as mathematical figures are evident. When he speaks of
the foundation of truth as being based on intuition (An-
schauung) he means such knowledge as is contained in
geometrical and arithmetical theorems, which in Kant's
terminology is called a priori and according to Schopen-
hauer is based on Anschauung or intuition whose truth
appears or becomes evident by merely contemplating the
interrelations of geometrical figures.

There are four kinds of truth according to Schopen-
hauer. One is purely formal or logical, referring to syl-
logisms and correctness of deductions; the second is em-
pirical, referring to statements of fact; the third is tran-
scendental where the word is used in the sense of Kant's
terminology. It comprises judgments of pure mathemat-
ical and pure natural science (referring mainly to the law
of causation). The fourth kind of truth is metalogical,
referring to the conditions of thinking itself.

Schopenhauer's philosophy, as is well known, insists
on the dominance of the will. The intellect, though really
the priestess of truth, is misused by the will as his hand-
maid, for the will in Schopenhauer's system plays the part
of the devil. But some of his successors, especially Nietz-

M Panerga und Paralipomena, II, 253, and I, 136.

11 P. U. P., II, 22.

TRUTH. 497

sche, accept upon the whole the foundation of Schopen-
hauer's world-conception, but they deify the will and claim
that the intellect ought to be secondary. Nietzsche goes
so far as to deny the right of truth to exist except by the
gracious permission of the will, and this same tendency
to give preeminence to the will has invaded other circles,
as we have seen, and has found definite expression in prag-
matism. The great question remains whether or not truth
is possible at all, and with this question ethics stands and
falls as well as science, for if there is no standard of truth
neither can there be a standard of right and wrong.

The average opinion as to the nature and function of
truth among modern scientists is characterized by John
Theodore Merz, who speaks as follows in his History of
European Thought in the Nineteenth Century.12

"At one time — and that not very long ago — the word truth
seemed to indicate to the seeker not only the right method and road
for attaining knowledge, but also the end, the crown of knowledge.
'Truth, and nothing but truth/ seems still to the popular mind the
right maxim for seeking knowledge — the whole truth stands before
it as the unity of all knowledge, were it found. I think it is now
sufficiently clear to the scientific inquirer, as well as to the philosopher,
that love of truth, while it does indeed denote the moral attitude
of the inquiring mind, is insufficient to define either the path or the
end of knowledge. 'What is truth?' is still the unsolved question.
The criteria of truth are still unsettled. It would, indeed, be a sor-
rowful experience, a calamity of unparalleled magnitude, if ever
the moral ideas of truth and faith should disappear out of the soul
of either the active worker or the inquiring thinker; but it is with
these as with other treasures of our moral nature, such as goodness
and holiness, beauty and poetry — our knowledge of them does not
begin, nor does it increase, by definition ; and though in the un-
thinking years of our childhood we acquire and appropriate these
moral possessions through the words of our mother-tongue, they
rarely gain in depth or meaning by logical distinctions which we
may learn, or to which we have to submit, in later life. These do

u English translation, p. 29 f.

49^ THE MONIST.

not touch the essence, though very frequently they may succeed in
destroying the depth, of our convictions.

"In the place, then, of the high-sounding but indefinable search
after truth, modern science has put an elaborate method of inquiry :
this method has to be learned by patient practice, and not by listening
to a description of it. It is laid down in the works of those modern
heroes of science, from Galileo and Newton onward, who have prac-
tised it successfully, and from whose writings philosophers from
Bacon to Comte and Mill have — not without misunderstanding and
error — tried to extract the rationale."

While knowing that this is the average opinion of our
scientists we must enter a vigorous protest against the
proposition that "the criteria of truth are still unsettled."
It is true enough that "the scientific method has to be
learned by patient practice, not by listening to a descrip-
tion of it," but that what has been successfully practised
by the heroes of science from Galileo down to Lord Kelvin,
Hertz and their most recent successors, should be equiv-
ocal and doubtful is not true. The methods of an investi-
gation of truth are not vague nor indefinite. Our scien-
tists rely on observations unequivocal and reliable, which
are made by mechanical contrivances, registry machines,
instruments of precision, with photography and chemical
reactions, according to circumstances. We always have
a combination of sense perception, which at present is ren-
dered more reliable by the invention of various devices, the
machinery of the scientist, with the calculation of arith-
metic, mathematical construction or logical argumentation.
In brief, the scientific method is, as cognition has always
been since the beginning of the human race, sense experi-
ence treated by the rules of reason (the purely formal
sciences). Sense experience furnishes the fact in question,
reason (that is, the sum total of all purely formal modes
of reasoning) furnishes the method of treating the facts,
of classifying and systematizing them.

TRUTH. 499

TRUTH AND MIND.

There is an unmistakable agreement among most of
these different opinions as to the nature of truth. It seems
that all philosophers of the world bear in mind a certain
ideal and are guided by the same tendency only with more
or less lucidity and with more or less depth. It is plain
that truth is a relation, and it always denotes an agree-
ment between thought as stated in a formula and the
object of thought, whatever the latter may be. If this
object of thought be called "thing" we can accept unhesi-
tatingly the definition of Thomas Aquinas that truth is the
agreement between thought and thing (adaequatio intel-
lectus et rei) ; in fact this is the simplest definition, but it
needs further explanation as to the nature of both thought
and thing.

Truth is in thought and in thought only. There is no
truth elsewhere. What is sometimes called truth ought
to be called reality or existence, actuality, fact or what-
ever else we may call the objective meaning of a thought.
There is a great difference between existence and truth.
Facts (by which we mean concrete things, events or con-
ditions that obtain independent of what anyone may think
of them) are real, while truths are correct images, symbols,
descriptions, or representations of such facts. The sense
impressions of which a sentient being becomes conscious
are not truths but facts. They are the data from which
we construct our knowledge of the objective world. These
sense impressions are the results of impacts made by the
surrounding world upon a sentient being . Sense impres-
sions are states of awareness which come to indicate the
presence of the causes producing them, and thus these sense
impressions acquire meaning, or, as we might say, are
worked out into sense perceptions. The external impacts
are physical facts — ether waves that strike the eye, air

5<X> THE MONIST.

waves that strike the ear, mechanical impressions that affect
the skin, etc. Sense impressions are psychical, they are
states of feelings, and sense perceptions are mental.

As soon as a sense perception begins to stand for its
external cause and is interpreted to picture, delineate or
characterize an outside fact, we have to deal with mind,
and mind is the domain of truth. While a sense impression
is a fact, a sense perception may be true or false.

Sense impressions work with the infallibility of natural
laws, and they are nature's work over which we have no
control; but sense perceptions are our own doing. They
are the result of a reaction which takes place in us in re-
sponse to a number of sense impressions. Every sense
perception, even in its simplest form, is an unconscious
judgment. It presupposes that a sense impression of the
same kind has been received and has left a trace in the
sentient substance. If then a new sense impression of the
same kind is made, it fits into the path left by the trace of
the former sense impression and revives it. Thus we have
two feelings, that of the new sense impression and the
revived memory of the former sense impression, but in
addition there originates another and a new feeling by the
fusion of the two which is the perception of the two being
of the same kind. The analogy to a logical syllogism is
obvious. The memory of the preceding impression repre-
sents the major premise, under which the new sense im-
pression is subsumed as the minor premise, and the feel-
ing that the impression fits is tantamount to the conclusion
that the subjects of the premises belong to the same cat-
egory.

So far as prior and subsequent sense impressions tally
correctly, they are appropriately called true, and the truth
consists in the correct subsumption of what belongs in the
same class. Thus truth in its simplest shape is the fitting of
a certain form of feeling in its proper place, or by impli-

TRUTH. 5OI

cation the correctness of the unconscious judgment that
the new sense impression is the same in kind as the pre-
ceding one and indicates the presence of the same cause.
Truth and mind are twins, and truth is co-existent with
mind. When sense impressions acquire meaning, when
they develop into perceptions, mind originates and the
origin of mind denotes the birth of truth, and also of the
possibility of error.

SENSE PERCEPTIONS AND HALLUCINATIONS.

The formation of sense perceptions is the beginning
of mind, but by the side of sense perceptions there are
hallucinations. Does not their mere existence obviously
invalidate the character of sense perceptions, especially
their reliability, and does it not thereby throw suspicion
upon truth?

We grant the occurrence of hallucinations, but their
prevalence no more invalidates the reliability of sense per-
ceptions than the prevalence of error invalidates or renders
doubtful the character of truth. We must only bear in
mind that with the appearance of truth there necessarily
rises the possibility of error, and this happens at the very
beginning of the origin of mind. In other words, as soon
as sense impressions change into sense-perceptions there
appears the possibility of mistakes. If a sense impression
receives a wrong interpretation it is called an hallucination.
Here is an instance.

The eye of a sentient being gazes fixedly at a red figure
on a white sheet of paper and this red spot on the retina
is rightly conceived and interpreted by the resulting sense
perception. Now the paper is withdrawn, but the image
persists, except that in place of the red figure a blue spot
of the same outline appears in view, and this seems almost
as tangible and real as was the red figure. We call it
the after-image of the red figure, and its nature is suffi-

5O2 THE MONIST.

ciently explained in the physiology of optics. This after-
image is as truly a sensation and it is as real as is the
original sense impression, and if we interpret it rightly
to be an after-image we cannot speak of it as an hallucina-
tion. But suppose the eye were part of the organism of
an unsophisticated person who knows nothing about sense
illusions, the after-image would naturally be interpreted
to indicate the presence of a blue figure, and this wrong
interpretation would be called an hallucination.

Hallucinations accordingly are sensations produced by
internal causes which are wrongly interpreted to be of ex-
ternal origin. There may be hallucinations of all the senses
— even tactual and gustatory, but the auditory hallucina-
tions caused by some internal disturbance of the ear and
also of the center of hearing are the most common. Next
to them in frequency are visions which are the hallucina-
tions of the sense of sight, frequently caused by disturb-
ances in the eye, specks in the circulating fluids of the outer
eye or on the retina, but they are sometimes also caused
by an abnormal excitation of the cerebral center of vision.

The sensory part of hallucinations is an actual fact and
is as real as any sense impression; the fault of hallucina-
tions lies in the wrong interpretation which is superadded
by the mind. Therefore, it has been rightly remarked,
it is wrong to speak of sense illusions, for in these so-called
sense illusions the senses remain reliable, and it is the
mind which errs. Sense illusions are instances of such
circumstances as are apt to mislead our judgment, but they
are really mental mistakes. They are in the domain of
sense perception what in the realm of our intellectual ac-
tivity is called error, — a failure to attain the truth.

The field of hallucinations is wide but we need not enter
into further details. We will only say that dreams are
natural occurrences, and we may call them hallucinations
experienced in sleep or in any subconscious state in which

TRUTH. 503

the normal waking consciousness is temporarily oblite-
rated. The sensory experience of dreams is as real or at
least may be as real as the sense impressions of a normal
life, and a scientifically educated man knows them to be
dreams. But if a nervous patient or the untrained Indian
assumes dreams to be realities, he falls into an error, and
then his dreams — especially if they occur in a half awake
state of mind which sometimes may happen — become hal-
lucinations.

UNIVERSALS AND THEIR CORRELATES.

Thus we see that the foundations of truth are laid by
nature herself in accordance with natural law and with
the same precision as that which originates in a machine
by mechanical necessity. This mechanical necessity is pos-
sible only on the supposition that the world is law-ordained,
that the beams of light are such and always such, that the
same causes under the same conditions always produce the
same results, and that this world is a world of uniformities,
not a sporadic chaos. If the world were a sporadic chaos,
mind could not have originated even in its most primitive
beginning. In fact mind is nothing but the systematic
upbuilding of the lawdom (Gesetzmassigkeit) that pre-
vails in the world, and we may say that this lawdom is the
ultimate basis of truth; it is the condition which makes
truth possible.

Facts appear to be chaotic. Not one is exactly like any
other. All the various facts that appear in existence pre-
sent a kaleidoscopic irregularity which in itself appears
to be a hopelessly confused tangle. If mind did not origi-
nate, the world would remain a meaningless play of blind
forces. But the very origin of mind proves that law rules
in the world of facts, and all these innumerable items of
material existence and this display of unlimited forces is

5O4 THE MONIST.

subject to rule, which makes it possible to formulate all
occurrences into general formulas.

There has been much discussion in the history of phi-
losophy about universals, and two contradictory views have
been taken of this much mooted subject. There are on the
one side thinkers who see in universals the only true real-
ity, the true being or OVTO)<S ovy and on the other side ob-
servers of nature who look upon them as mere generali-
zations which have no true existence and have been in-
vented merely for the purpose of classifying the real things.
Both views are right, but both are one-sided, and much
depends upon the meaning of the word "real." If it means
"thingish," as the word implies, universals are nonentities,
for they are not things, nor objects, nor concrete material
bodies, they cannot be touched by hands or perceived by
any one of the senses.

If concrete actuality of existence is the meaning of
"real" we must absolutely grant that universals do not
possess reality. From this standpoint the nominalists speak
of universals as flatus vocis, as words, and more modern
followers of this line of thought treat them as devices for
thinking the realities of life. Materially considered uni-
versals are non-existent. They are products of the scien-
tist's imagination and neither telescopes nor microscopes,
no chemist's crucible nor physicist's scales will ever dis-
cover the slightest trace of the actual existence of uni-
versals, natural laws, formulas, Platonic Ideas, or any-
thing that belongs to that class.

Now let us consider the opposite view. Does the nom-
inalist school or any one of their type really mean to say
that universals are mere flatus vocis, mere generalizations,
mere contrivances to think the world more easily? Many
men of this type actually say so, but do they truly mean it ?
Would they really be prepared to say that universals pos-
sess no objective meaning, that there is nothing corre-

TRUTH. 5O5

spending to them in the actual world? We have granted
that no actual things, no material entities correspond to
them. They are not divinities presiding over certain de-
partments of nature as represented in the mythology of the
religions of the past, nor are they metaphysical essences
which somehow mysteriously underlie the phenomena of
nature. Nevertheless there is no one who would be pre-
pared to deny that there are certain somethings corre-
sponding to them in the actual world, and that these some-
things are the very factors which shape the world. These
somethings are not of a material nature, nor are they
energies; they are of a purely formal nature, they are re-
lations, shapes, arrangements of parts in one way or an-
other. Yet these purely formal arrangements are the es-
sential conditions of the world of material actuality which
determine new formations, and so we cannot say that in
every respect they are nonentities.

It is obvious that reality or thingishness and actuality,
which means that the material things act, that they do
something, that they move about, that there is an active
play of forces summarized under the term of energy, are
not the whole of existence. There is some additional fea-
ture which is non-material and has nothing to do with
energy. It is the shape, the interrelation, the form, the
direction, the arrangement in which either forces or mate-
rial particles are combined, and this interrelational some-
thing is the true factor that moulds the world and is the
reason why this enormous congeries of atoms is not a
chaos but a law-ordained cosmos.

We mus* not overlook the fact that in addition to form
there is another non-material element ensouling the world,
and this is that indescribable something which develops
into human consciousness. It is feeling, the peculiar char-
acteristic of which appears in awareness. For reasons
into which we need not enter here, we assume that the

5O6 THE MONIST.

whole world is aglow with a potentiality of feeling, which
in a philosophical term we may call subjectivity. Subjectiv-
ity emerges from purely physical conditions and finally de-
velops in the course of a long evolution into the thinking
subject. But even this psychic element of subjectivity
would have remained forever a scintillating chaos of sub-
conscious feelings if its elements had not been arranged
into an orderly whole according to the laws of pure form.
It is the orderly interrelation of elementary subjectivity
which in a nervous system makes feeling possible; it is
further the proper classification of feelings of the same
form which renders feelings representative; and finally it
produces reason in the natural course of the evolution of
mentality.

The significance of interrelations, of the mode or ar-
rangement, of form, has been strangely overlooked in
philosophy, while it has produced in minds of a mystic
turn fantastic views as to the nature of spirit, soul and
God. Opponents of mysticism have always been inclined
to deny the existence of anything spiritual. They try to do
without believing in spirit, soul, or God, and certainly they
are right in denying the mythology attached to these no-
tions. Nevertheless the facts remain, and the facts which
produce these notions are explicable by the significance of
relations and forms, and though the purely formal laws
as laws have no objective existence, there are purely formal
relations which are of utmost importance, and though they
are not real in the literal sense of reality, though they are
not thingish, they are not for that reason negligible quan-
tities, for they are the most essential feature of all exist-
ence. In fact all comprehension, all cognition, all intel-
lectual activity becomes possible only through them. When
we speak of reality and actuality, we refer merely to state-
ments of fact. These names — reality and actuality, in other
words, matter and energy — contain nothing that can be

TRUTH.

understood or would become in any way an object of com-
prehension. All comprehension consists in tracing trans-
formations of matter or the changes of the forms of energy.
Matter and energy simply represent the "that" of exist-
ence, not the why or the wherefore.

Accordingly we come to the conclusion that there are
objective correlates of our subjective thoughts, of univer-
sals, of the laws of nature, and also of the unities of parts
which combine into things. Though they are neither con-
crete objects nor metaphysical essences, they possess an
objective significance. They are traceable in the uniformities
of nature and the laws in which we summarize these uni-
formities are true and reliable descriptions of definite fea-
tures of the constitution of the world. We call these de-
scriptions, these laws of nature, these generalized state-
ments of fact, truths, and the instinctive reverence which
men at large have for these truths is well grounded.

THE ONENESS OF ALL TRUTHS.

Experience has taught us to look upon all truths as
one great system of more or less general uniformities,
which are co-, sub- and super-ordinated in such a way
that all of them complement one another and that the
more general truths comprise and thereby explain the
more particular ones ; while the latter are specifications of
the former. At any rate we expect that no two truths shall
contradict one another. They form contrasts but never
come in conflict with each other. The more they stand in
contrast the more they are supplementary. This leads to
the assumption of the unison, the harmoniousness, the
consistency, of all truths. To state the case from the oppo-
site point of view, we assume a priori that there cannot be
any contradiction in truth, and so we try to harmonize all
contrasts that might occur in the field of our observation.

The a priori assumption of the unity of all truth which

5O8 THE MONIST.

finally abuts in the theory of the oneness and consistency
of all existence, called monism, is as a principle of thinking
ultimately based in the systematic unity of our mind. The
human mind has been built up during the course of its de-
velopment as a collection of uniformities and these uniform-
ities have classified themselves in proper order according
to their sameness, similarity and kinship, so that the whole
constitutes a system, and this system represents the proto-
type of logic. The rules of logic have been deduced from
it, and in this sense the human mind is predestined to pro-
duce in its further development certain ideas which such
philosophers as Leibnitz call "innate."

The human mind has reached that point of mental de-
velopment in which a sentient being can designate by name
the several co-, sub- and superordinated classes and become
conscious of their interrelation. The animal mind cannot
do so and yet it acts instinctively as if it were possessed
of logic. The reason is that its composite memory images
are logically arranged and operate like a living machine in
a perfectly logical order. Through the instrumentality
of language this interrelation can be objectified in terms
of abstract thought and presented in systematic form. This
system of interrelations becomes a conscious faculty of
thought, called reason, which is used as a method for an
orderly arrangement of ideas. In its highest perfection
the application of this method is called science.

Reason enables man to see in every single occurrence
an instance of a general rule, and if general rules describe
real uniformities, if they possess correlates in the objective
world, we call them truths.

We understand now that the domain of truth and the
realm of the mind are coextensive, and mind is practically
nothing but the embodiment of the most common truths
of the world order, the logic of which in its systematized
form we call reason.

TRUTH. 5O9

We will here forestall a common error frequently com-
mitted by beginners and would-be philosophers, which is
this, that the most general truths ought to contain the key
to all the riddles of the world. In a certain sense this is true
enough because an important part of explanation consists
in subsuming a certain set of experiences under its proper
caption, but all explanations presuppose also a knowledge
of the reason why in specific cases a general rule will pro-
duce specific results. The power of generalization is the
first development of mentality, the power of discrimination
is its more subtle and also more difficult correlate. Those
who praise a man for his power of generalization, forget
that the savage, as well as the superficial investigator, is
great in generalizing all things, but that he is weak in
making the necessary discriminations. In fact, wrong gen-
eralizations are a common source of many errors, and no
scientist can attain distinction unless he is keen in dis-
crimination.

Truths are discovered, they are not invented. Though
truths belong to the mind and exist only in the mind in
the thinking subject, they have an objective significance
and describe conditions which obtain somewhere or some-
how independent of the mind.

When we say truths are discovered we mean that they
cannot be different, and it is not in our power to shape them
as we please. They are predetermined and this again im-
plies that in some form or other they exist as potentialities.
At the same time the truths which are formulas represent-
ing laws of nature are potent factors of reality, and these
prototypes of our truths we will call verities. While the
verities in their totality as the sum total of the determinants
of the world order correspond to God the Creator or God
the Father in the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, a per-
fect system of all the truths would correspond to God the
Son, truths being incarnations of the verities. In addition

5IO THE MONIST.

to the contrast between verities and truths, there is a middle
ground composed of those ideas which tend to set the world
in harmony with the cosmic order and these are called
ideals. These ideals in so far as they pursue the right tend-
ency represent the third person of the Trinity, the Holy
Ghost.

Truths are subjective statements, but the reason why
they are truths and deserve this high name is their agree-
ment with their objective correlates, and it is noteworthy
that these objective correlates are not concrete things but
features of things, relations, proportions of interdepen-
dence, and other items or events determined by definite
causes such as can be subsumed under general formulas.
These objective correlates of truth are not concrete things,
nor divinities, nor metaphysical essences ; the formulas are
mere generalizations, and what corresponds to them are
generalities of existence which however are not nonentities.
They are not material, not concrete, they are interrelations
and thus belong to the domain of pure forms. A compre-
hension of them transforms sentient creatures from the
state of brute animals into rational beings, and the objec-
tive counterparts, though mere interrelations of the mate-
rial universe constitute the factors which determine its de-
velopment and mould the inert mass of material existence
into that grand law-ordained cosmos as which we com-
prehend the universe.

We call the formulas which correctly describe the uni-
formities that obtain in the universe, truths, and the same
term is sometimes also applied to their objective correlates;
but in order to distinguish the two we propose to call the
latter "verities."

Pragmatism denies the existence of verities. It does
not believe in consistency and repudiates the unity of truth.
It knows only truths in the plural and these truths have

TRUTH. 511

no objective significance; they are shifting and without
stability.

The better we know the uniformities of nature, of so-
cial interrelations and of all the phases of life, the more
profoundly conversant do we become with the constitution
of the universe, or in other words, the more we know of
truth the farther does our soul extend and the deeper does
it fathom the world. Truths are the subjective reflection
of the verities that sustain the universe. The more we
know of truth, the higher shall we rise in the course of evo-
lution, the better adapted shall we be to the conditions of
life, the more powerful shall we become, the higher shall
be our dignity and our worth, and the nearer shall we be
unto God, — for what is God but that systematic unison of
all the correlates of truth? God is the oneness of all the
verities of existence.

In the same way as uniformities are not mere subjective
notions, not mere names, but designate definite conditions
in the objective world, the things which we meet with in
experience are not mere conglomerations of parts. True
things, by which we here mean objects of experience which
are rightly conceived as unities are not arbitrarily so named
and are not of a purely subjective nature. The unity of
the thing in our conception corresponds to a unity of its
parts in the objective world. It is true that what we call
things are bundles of sensations, and we can analyze things
into their constituent parts, but the bond of union is of
deep significance. An engine is not the sum total of its
parts, but the arrangement of its parts in such an inter-
relation that it will do work, and so we must grant that
combinations, groupings, forms, interrelations produce de-
finite and actual effects.

And what is the test that an aggregate of parts con-
stitutes a true unity, a thing worthy of the name? A true
thing must not be a mere addition of its parts, not a mere

512 THE MONIST.

summation of its elements, not a mechanical mixture of its
ingredients, but a combination into a systematic whole
which possesses an individuality of its own; and the test
is that a thing which is not a mere quantitative aggregate
but constitutes a higher configuration into something new
is qualitatively different from its parts.

To look upon formations, the relational factors, or the
purely formal aspect of things as nonentities, because they
are not material items is a misconception of the paramount
significance of form. We not only grant, we even insist
most emphatically that there are no "things-in-themselves,"
no unknown or unknowable metaphysical magnitudes be-
hind the world of experience, but for all that we recognize the
objective significance of things, the efficiency of formations,
of natural laws, of uniformities, and also the importance
of the idea of unity, the highest realizations of which are
found in organisms, plants, animals and above all in human
personalities.

CONCLUSION.

Truth has been on trial. The very backbone of truth,
its consistency, the unison of all truths, has been doubted
and even denied. The belief in the stability of truth, in its
persistence and eternality has been denounced as a super-
stition.

So far truth has guided us safely from the beginning
of mentality; it has endowed man with reason, it has cre-
ated the sciences, inspired the inventor's imagination and
is still leading mankind onward on the path of progress,
but it has grown old-fashioned, and the new generation
has become tired of it. The old truth is the living water
which nourishes, sustains and quickens every fiber of our
mental constitution, but this generation is thirsty for inno-
vations. They are sick of the monotony of a truth that is
true to itself; they hanker for a truth that is variegated,

TRUTH. 513

fickle, multi-significant. So they leave this venerable ideal
and look upon it as an idol. It no longer fits into the pro-
gram of the "new thought" movement, and pragmatism
replaces it by a more elastic kind of truth which can change
with the fashions and makes it possible that we need no
longer trouble about inconsistencies; for what is true to
one need no longer be true to others, and the truth of to-day
may be the real now, and yet it may become the error of
to-morrow. The new conception of truth flatly contradicts
the old rigorous and inconvenient notion according to
which no two truths can be contradictory. The pluralistic
truth is more accommodating, for it lets all contradictions
pass and dispenses with the exacting demands of the old
ideal of consistency.

This new truth conception is a fad that has its day but
will pass by, for truth, the old time-worn and time-honored
ideal of truth as being one and eternal, will sooner or later
assert itself again. We cannot live without truth, and the
new truth is a pseudo-truth that cannot help us. Those
who resent truth's sternness and stability prefer to conceive
truth as an errant light which points in one direction to-
day and in another to-morrow. This truth is a will-o'-the-
wisp which does not throw light on the path of progress
but entices its followers to wend their way into the quag-
mire of opinions and opinionated subjectivism.

In the meantime the truth continues to encompass us,
for truly all our mental life lives by the grace of truth, and
in it every creature that thinks, lives and moves and has
its being.

Truth, most wonderful presence in the life of man, thou
encompassest our every throb of thought. Thou art God
incarnate in our soul. Without thee spirituality would
never have risen into being, the light of cognition would
not shine, and chaotic darkness would prevail. Without

514 THE MONIST.

thee this world would be a congeries of dull matter and a
play of blind forces void of meaning and void of purpose.

How ineffably great art thou, O Truth, and yet thou
hidest thyself in things small. The senses can not find
thee, for thou art not made of matter, nor dost thou consist
of force. Thou residest in the meaning of fleeting sensa-
tions, and thy significance is a mere relation, a description
of the uniformities of nature. And yet thou alone pos-
sessest dignity, thou alone art worthy to be called divine,
and thou art the son of that All-One whom thou revealest,
that One in All who sways motes and stars and moulds the
destinies of all the worlds.

Thou needest no shrines and no altars and thou de-
mandest no doxologies. There is no worship that pleaseth
thee, except the worship without ritual, a surrender of
error, of falsehood, of lies. He is thy true devotee who re-
ceives thee in his soul and invites thy presence to bless
him.

The ideal of truth may remain neglected or misunder-
stood for some time, but its light will not be darkened for-
ever. We need not fear for truth, because truth will take
care of itself. The cause of truth is God's cause, for truth
reflects and reveals the eternal, and the eternal is God.

EDITOR.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS.

IN the fierce attacks upon Der vorchristliche Jesus1 pre-
cipitated by the adoption, accentuation, and populariza-
tion of its theses in the epoch-marking writings and lec-
tures of Prof. Arthur Drews, conservative theologians
have very properly declined to take part, thereby combining
(as Bacon would say) serpentine wisdom with columbine
innocence. They have clearly perceived that the movement
was not directed against their position, but against the
citadel of their century-old foe, who would reduce their
Divinity to the ranks of men, and at least one of the very
greatest of them (in a letter to the present writer) rejoiced
sincerely at beholding the sudden fall of that adversary.
No! It is the liberal critic, so long enthroned in the seats
of learning, who has been amazed to see his central con-
cept of the purely human Jesus put on trial for its life and
more than half -convicted, and who, ingemiscens tamquam
rens, has now for nearly a twelve-month plied an unavail-
ing pen in passionate protest against the audacity of this
"assault upon the liberal theology."

In the sallies of the besieged much weight has been
laid upon profane testimonies, particularly of Josephus
and Tacitus. It is Chwolson in St. Petersburg that has
bared his arm of might over the Josephine section;2 it is
Von Soden in Berlin that has stressed so strongly the

1 Giessen, Alfred Topelmann, 1906.
1 Ueber die Frage ob Jesus gelebt hat.

5l6 THE MONIST.

Tacitean chapter.3 However much we may reverence
these scholars in their cooler moments, it is not easy to
take these impassioned utterances seriously. They do not
indeed take each other seriously. The very section that
Chwolson so eagerly defends, Von Soden declares (p. n)
to be "undoubtedly interpolation" by Christian hands. In-
voluntarily one recalls the famous appeal "from Philip
drunk to Philip sober," and wonders how these "higher
critics" (who are much higher than deep) will write to-
morrow. To track down the endless inaccuracies and falla-
cies of their hasty superficialities would be a weary and
bootless task, like chasing field-mice in autumn: stamp
them out here, and lo they stir the soil yonder. In this
case to be just would be cruel ; we can afford to be generous
and to pass over these Flugschriften as too flighty for de-
tailed notice.

However, the passages in question do really call for
a calm and careful and thoroughgoing treatment, such
certainly as they have not yet received in this furious Battle
of the Booklets, and to such an examination we now invite
the patient attention of the reader.

When the liberal critic is called on to justify his dogma
of the mere humanity of the Jesus, his only recourse must
be to some form of historical record. A merely human life
is a matter merely of human history, to which accordingly
appeal must be made. The history is either sacred or pro-
fane. The testimony of the former is not here in debate
and besides has been examined closely elsewhere by the
present writer. Of profane history the witness is "brief,
but endless" if indeed there be any such witness at all. The
first and by all odds the most important is found in the
Antiquities of the Jewish historian Josephus, precisely the
work in which one would search for it writh the liveliest
interest and the greatest confidence. The attestation as

*Hat Jesus gelebtJ and in Berliner Religionsgespr'dch, p. 39.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. $17

we read it now is clear, decisive, and unequivocal. Ac-
cepted at its face value it settles forever the question that
now so agitates the head and heart of Germany. It de-
serves then the most conscientious and open-minded scru-
tiny.

Such a scrutiny discloses in the first place that the
chapter in which the deposition is found is concerned ex-
clusively with calamities that overtook the Jews. It is sand-
wiched between two other sections that tell of bloody disas-
ters that befell God's people at Rome and Jerusalem. Now
unless this passage itself tells of some sanguinary mis-
fortune to his countrymen — and in spite of Chwolson it is
hopelessly absurd and ridiculous to attempt any such con-
struction— it seems impossible that Josephus should have
introduced it in this connection. We make this preliminary
observation in hope that the reader will bear it constantly
in mind from the very start, and because it is of itself ab-
solutely decisive against the whole section and against every
emendation thereof that apologetic ingenuity can suggest.
There is not one word of the entire passage that can stand
against this single consideration, namely, that all the rest
of the chapter, both before and after, is devoted to the
afflictions that scourged the countrymen of the historian.

Here then is this famous section reproduced in its (con-
densed) context:

Archeology, Book XVIII, chap. III.

§ i. Pilate, procurator of Judea, removes the army from
Caesarea to Jerusalem for winter quarters and against all
precedent brings Caesar's effigies by night into the Holy
City. The Jews flock to Caesarea protesting for five days,
but in vain : the sixth day Pilate forms a plan to massacre
them, but struck with their heroic devotion in laying down
their bared necks he relents and orders back the images
from Jerusalem to Caesarea.

§ 2. Pilate undertakes to supply Jerusalem with water,

5l8 THE MONIST.

using sacred money. The Jews protest clamorously and
abusively. So he distributes among the populace soldiers
in citizens' dress; at a signal (when the Jews refused to
disperse) the soldiers draw their concealed daggers and
slaughter: "And they bore themselves no way mildly, so
that the people, being caught unarmed by the soldiers at-
tacking fully prepared, many of them perished thus and
some ran away wounded. And so the sedition was stopped.

3. "And there appeared at this time Jesus, a wise man,
if man indeed it be lawful to call him. For he was a doer
of marvelous works, (a) teacher of men that receive the
truth with pleasure. And many Jews and many too of the
Hellenic (race) he brought over to himself. This was the
Christ. And when on the evidence of the first men among
us Pilate had condemned him to the cross, they did not
cease who had loved him at first, for he appeared to them
on the third day again alive, the divine prophets having
spoken both these and myriad other wondrous things about
him. And (even) until now the tribe of the Christians,
named from him, is not extinct."

4. "And about the same time another terrible mis-
fortune4 confounded the Jews". . . .Then follows the story
of the deflowering of Paulina in the temple of Isis by
Mundus personating Anubis, and of the punishment of this
sacrilege by Tiberius, who demolished the temple and cruci-
fied the offenders all but the principal, Mundus himself.

5. The misfortune of the Jews : 4000 are banished from
Rome for the wickedness of four, a Rabbi and three con-
federates, who procured gifts from Fulvia, wife of Satur-
ninus, under false pretences.

We can hardly covet the critical insight that sees in
this § 3 the hand of Josephus. The chapter deals solely
with the misfortunes of the Jews at Caesarea, at Jerusalem,

rt deii>6r.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS.

at Rome. The Section j is entirely out of relation to its
context.

Moreover, that § 4 follows immediately upon § 2 is plain
to see in the words "another calamity." The obvious ref-
erence is to the preceding massacre in Jerusalem. There
is no possible reference to this § 3.

Furthermore, the style is not that of the historian. It
is plain, straightforward, uninvolved, in contrast with the
tangled meshes of the Josephine sentence.

Still more, however, and decisively, the writer of § 3
is a Christian. He declares positively, "This was the
Christ."5 Posing as Josephus, he says of Jesus "wise man,"
but instantly corrects himself, "if man indeed it is lawful
to call him" ; he describes Jesus as a doer of prodigies, as
a teacher of the truth ; he affirms distinctly the resurrection,
"he appeared the third day again alive"; he accepts the
whole body of ten thousand wonders told of him as Mes-
siah and foretold of him by the divine prophets. Such
faith as this, and such an open avowal, might satisfy even
the Holy Office of the Inquisition.

Once again, the phraseology smacks strongly of the
New Testament. Thus yiVcrat in the sense of comes
(Mark i. 4; John i. 6; 2 Peter ii. I ; I John ii. 18) and the
change from past to present tense ;6 "that receive the truth
with pleasure";7 compare "the principal men" with "the
head men"8 of the Gospels, Acts, Epistles ; also "they that
loved him at first" with John xiii. i, "having loved his own
in the world, he loved them to the end" ; also the "myriad
wonders" with John xxi. 25, "The world could not contain
the books that would be written."

Finally the phrase "until now" recalls the New Testa-

5 & 'Kptffrb* ovrot $».

9 So also TapoWfwi', as in Luke V. 26, etdanfp rapado^a

TCf. Luke viii. 13, "receive the word with joy"; Acts xvii. n, "received
the word with all zeal"; James i. 21, "receive in meekness the engrafted word."

52O THE MONIST.

ment "unto this day" (Matt, xxviii. 15) and indicates simi-
larly a late date for the paragraph, surely later than A. D.
80, when Josephus wrote his Archeology. Schiirer ob-
serves (§ 17, footnote 24) that "Josephus has certainly
been interpolated by a Christian hand" ; and in view of all
the foregoing there should be no hesitancy in bracketing
this section, with the great editor Bekker, as spurious.

To this internal evidence comes the decisive external
fact that the section was unknown to Origen. This most
learned of the Fathers, in his polemic against Celsus, had
frequent and pressing occasion to use every scrap of out-
lying testimony to the Christian thesis assailed. As we
shall immediately see he quotes copiously and repeatedly
from Josephus witnessing concerning James the Just; he
had every occasion and every motive to quote this incom-
parably far more relevant and far more important witness
concerning the Christ. That he never calls it in evidence,
is morally conclusive proof that he did not know of its
existence, which can only mean that it was not in Origen's
copy of Josephus. No attempt yet made to evade this con-
clusion seems worthy of any notice. The fact that the
passage is not mentioned by still earlier writers, as Irenaeus,
Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria, and others, affords cor-
roboration if any be needed.

It seems then that the non- Josephine origin of this sec-
tion is indicated unambiguously by almost every kind of
evidence that can be available in such matters. Its testi-
mony would appear to be not for but distinctly against
the position it was invented to support; for men do not
fabricate documents to corroborate the true but to recom-
mend the false. Let us not insist on this, however, but re-
main content with the obvious fact, that on the most favor-
able reckoning possible, the section labors under the grav-
est suspicion and can attest nothing save that itself is in the
direst need of attestation.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS.

Here at the outset it may be well to observe that the
general hypothesis of Christian interpolation needs no vin-
dication and involves no improbability. For that it is a
fact in countless cases is admitted on all hands. Leaving
aside the New Testament for the present, the list of out-
right pseudonymous Christian compositions, universally so
recognized, is long and formidable. It is not necessary
to burden these pages with any such list, since such lists
are easily accessible and the general fact is nowhere in dis-
pute. Moreover, of works probably genuine, it is the rare
exception that has escaped interpolation. Jewish works
were regularly adapted to Christian use by this approved
process of intercalating Christian sentiments, dogmas, or
allusions. Witness the Sibylline Oracles, the Testaments
of the Patriarchs, and the Jewish Apocrypha in general.
So far then from being antecedently improbable, such inter-
polation is very probable antecedently, it is more likely
than not. Nevertheless, to leave a wider margin of safety,
we shall employ this form of argument sparingly, not wher-
ever its use is possible, but only where it is recommended
by independent considerations.

A second reference of Josephus to Jesus might be im-
agined in the following paragraph (Arch. XX, 9. i) treat-
ing of the death of James, "the brother of the Lord" :

"Ananus, then, being such (as I have said), fancying
he had now a fitting opportunity, since Festus was dead
and Albinus was still on the road, assembles a Sanhedrin
of judges, and having brought thither the Brother of Jesus,
him called Christ (James was his name), and some certain
others and having made accusations (against them as)
lawbreakers, he delivered them to be stoned."

The words in italics9 have been bracketed as spurious,
— we think, correctly. Neander and others defend them,

• r6» d8t\(ftir 'lyffov rov \eyofdrov XpurroC ('Id*w/3o» 6i>o/j.a OVTW) and
irtpovt.

522 THE MONIST.

and McGiffert says (The Church History of Eus., p. 127,
n- 39) > "It is very difficult to suppose that a Christian in
interpolating the passage, would have referred to James
as the brother of the 'so-called Christ.' "10 Indeed ! On the
contrary, it is just because this phrase is the most approved
Christian, evangelic, and canonic, that we suspect it in
Josephus. It meets us in Matt. i. 16; xxvii. 17, 22; John
iv. 25. The depreciatory "so" is not in the Greek. Thus
we read of "Simon the one called Peter" (Matt. iv. 18;
x. 2), "the high-priest the one called Caiaphas" (Matt,
xxvi. 3), "the feast the one called Passover" (Luke xxii.
i ), "the man, the one called Jesus" (John ix. 1 1 ), "Thomas
the one called Didymus" (John xi. 16; xx. 24; xxi. 2),
"gate the one called Beautiful" (Acts iii. 2), "tent the one
called Holy of Holies" (Heb. ix. 3), where depreciation is
out of the question. The indication is merely that of a sur-
name or nickname or name in some way peculiar or extra-
ordinary.

It seems incredible that Josephus should throw in such
an observation at this stage without any preparation or ex-
planation or occasion. Moreover, it is certain that Jo-
sephus has been interpolated elsewhere by Christian hands,
and with precisely this same phrase, for Origen thrice
quotes as from Josephus the statement that the Jewish suf-
ferings at the hands of Titus were a divine retribution for
the slaying of James: "Josephus says in his Archeology,
'According to wrath of God these things came upon them,
for the things dared by them against James, the brother
of Jesus the one called Christ' .... And he says that 'the
people too thought they suffered these things on account
of James.'" (463) in Mat. XIII. 55. "The same [Jo-
sephus] seeking the cause of the fall of Jerusalem and of
the demolition of the Temple. . . .says, 'These [calamities]
befell the Jews in vengeance for James the Just who was

10 TOV \cyonfrov "Kpiffrov.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 523

brother of Jesus the one called Christ, since indeed they
slew him though being most just/ ' Contra C. I, 47.
'Titus demolished Jerusalem, as Josephus writes, on ac-
count of James the Just, the brother of Jesus the one called
Christ" — Contra C. II, 13 /m. The passage is still found
in some Josephus manuscripts, but as it is wanting in others
it is and must be regarded as a Christian interpolation older
than Origen (against Hilgenfeld, Einleitung, p. 526, who
thinks the passage has been expunged from Christian man-
uscripts of Josephus!). Now since this phrase is certainly
interpolated in the one place, the only reasonable conclusion
is that it is interpolated in the other. This notion that the
death of James was avenged in the siege of Jerusalem is
found in the bud in Hegesippus, who says: "And so he
suffered martyrdom. And they buried him on the spot
beside the temple. . . . This man became a true witness both
to Jews and to Greeks that Jesus is the Christ. And
straightway Vespasian besieges them" (Eus., H. E. II. 23,

18).

But does not the phrase itself attest the mere humanity
of the Jesus ? Now it is plain that if James or any one else
was really the flesh-and-blood brother of the Lord or of
Jesus, then this latter was assuredly pure-human. But is
flesh-and-blood kinship meant by the term "brother" ? It
is not certain, it is not even probable. Winckler (in Ara-
bisch-Semitisch-Orientalisch) and others have shown us
how broad is the notion of brother in the East. In the
New Testament itself the term is used continually, regu-
larly, to denote religious relation without the remotest hint
of blood kinship. In the West and to-day it is similarly
used of all members of an organization secular as well as
religious. In the Gospels11 Jesus himself is made to ask,
"who are my brothers ?" And he answers, "They that do

"Matt. xii. 46-50; Mk. iii. 31-35; Luke viii. 21. See also Matt. xxv. 40;
xxviii. 10; I Cor. ix. 5; Gal. i. 19.

524 THE MONIST.

the will of my Father in Heaven." Here then in the
most ancient church we find distinct declaration that to be
"Brother of Jesus" was to keep the law, to do the will of
the Father in Heaven. Now it was precisely this punc-
tilious fulfilment of the law for which this James the Just
was famous. This fact is well known and universally ad-
mitted, so that it stands in no need of formal proof.

In Acts we hear a good deal of this James, but only
in this character as the leader of the law-abiding disciples.
No less an authority than Jerome (A. D. 387) has ex-
pressed the correct idea on this point. In commenting on
Gal. i. 19 he says (in sum) : "James was called the Lord's
brother on account of his high character, his incomparable
faith, and his extraordinary wisdom; the other apostles
are also called brothers (John xx. 17) but he pre-eminently
so, to whom the Lord at his departure had committed the
sons of his mother" (i. e., the members of the church at
Jerusalem). Similarly Origen. From i Cor. ix. 5 we see
with distinctness that there was a class of Messianists,
nearly coordinate with the Apostles, bearing the honored
name of "Brothers of the Jesus," or "of the Lord"; also
a class called "Brothers of Kephas." Hence in Corinth
some said, "I am of Kephas" ; others, "I am of Christ."

Indeed, it is never hinted that James was really con-
sanguineous with Jesus. We hold then that this term
"Brother of the Lord" does by no means imply any family
kinship, that it most probably designates a class of earnest
Messianists, zealots of obedience, and we venture to set
them in close relation with the Corinthian "Those of the
Christ."12 Surely if a sect of early Messianists were known
as particularly "They of the Christ," it is highly likely that
they or some similar group should be known as "Brothers
of the Lord" or of "Jesus." Especially does this seem in-

Uol TOV XptffTOV.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 525

trinsically probable when we remember that there is no
evidence that this name was employed before the notion
of the earthly human life of Jesus was already established
or at least establishing itself. That zealots should then
call themselves and their earlier leader "Brothers of Jesus"
is no stranger than that Loyola should found the "Society
of Jesus." Besides we must never forget that names of the
Christians did greatly abound, such as Saints, Disciples,
Called, Elect, "of Paul," "of Peter," "of Christ," Naza-
raeans, Gnostics, the Perfect, Pneumatics, and others. From
all of which we conclude that the phrase in question, no
matter when first used, nor by whom, nor of whom, by no
means implies any kinship or furnishes any proof of the
pure-human character of Jesus.

The next reference to Christ by a profane writer is
found in Tacitus:13

"Sed non ope humana, non largitionibus principis aut deum
placamentis decedebat infamia, quin iussum incendium crederetur.
Ergo abolendo rumori Nero subdidit reos et quaesitissimis poenis
adfecit, quos per flagitia invisos vulgus Christianos appellabat. Auc-
tor nominis eius Christus Tiberio imperitante per procuratorem Pen-
tium Pilatum supplicio adfectus erat ; repressaque in praesens exitia-
bilis superstitio rursus erumpebat, non modo per ludaeam, originem
eius mali, sed per urbem etiam, quo cuncta undique atrocia aut pu-
denda confluunt celebranturque. Igitur primum correpti qui fate-
bantur, deinde indicio eorum multitudo ingens hand proinde in cri-
mine incendii quam odio humani generis convicti sunt. Et pereun-
tibus addita ludibria, ut ferarum tergis contecti laniatu canum interi-
rent, aut crucibus adfixi aut flammandi, atque, ubi defecisset dies, in
usum nocturni luminis urerentur. Hortos suos ei spectaculo Nero
obtulerat et circense ludicrum edebat, habitu aurigae permixtus plebi
vel curriculo insistens. Unde quamquam adversus sontes et novis-
sima exempla meritos miseratio oriebatur, tamquam non utilitate pub-
lica sed in saevitiam unius absumerentur. — Annals, XV, 44.

With respect to this famous passage we must observe
first, that if it be genuine, it was written in the first quarter

M For the translation and the context see infra.

526 THE MONIST.

of the second century, near the close of the last work of
the great historian, most probably after the death of Tra-
jan (A. D. 117). At the most then it records only a report
accepted at that time among Christians. Now it is not at
all strange that the fiction (if it be a fiction) of the death
under Pilate should be current at that date, nearly three gen-
erations after the feigned event. If such a report originated
at all, it originated (gradually to be sure) at some time
most probably in the first century ; it may easily then have
obtained currency and reached the ears of Tacitus before
A. D. no. Its reproduction, at his -hands, then, merely
attests its existence at that date, but in no degree attests
its correctness.

Thus far on the supposition that the passage proceeds
from Tacitus ; — we need make no other supposition for the
purposes of our argument. Let it be genuine, if you will ;
it proves nothing that is worth debate. Since he has never
attached any argumentative importance to the passage, the
mind of the writer may be fairly supposed to be in a meas-
ure unprejudiced, and as a mere matter of critical candor
he must not disguise from the reader that he most gravely
doubts its genuineness. It has indeed been speciously con-
tended of late that Poggio Bracciolini was the author of
the Annals,14 but there are very cogent reasons against this
contention. This whole section, however, reads very much
like fabrication or at least emendation of a Christian hand.
Among other suspicious circumstances may be noted the
following :

A. Such a remarkable persecution as here described,
and such a passage from such an author, must have deeply
impressed the early Christian mind. There is nothing else
nearly equal to either in pagan history and literature of
that century. We should expect them to stand out con-

14 Tacitus and Bracciolini. The Annals Forged in the Fifteenth Century,
London, 1878.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 527

spicuous in the memories and memorials of the following
generations. We know how zealously the data of martyr-
dom were cherished and even invented at an early period.
It is inconceivable, then, that an event so supremely mem-
orable should have escaped all record and all reference.
Yet what is the state of case ? Early tradition is absolutely
silent about both the Neronian persecution and the Tacit-
ean testimony. Paul would seem to have been in Rome
about that time (A. D. 64). Surely he would have been
involved someway in the proceedings. Yet there is no
allusion to any part he played in the tragedy. True, in
2 Tim. iv. 6, 7, we read, "For already I pour myself out as
offering, and the time of my dissolution is come; I have
fought the good fight, have finished the course, have kept
the faith ; henceforth is laid up for me the crown of right-
eousness which the Lord shall give me in that day, the
Just Judge, and not only to me but to all who have loved
his appearing." But in verses 16 and 17 the scene shifts
suddenly: "At my first defense none was for me, but all
forsook me — let it not be reckoned against them — but the
Lord stood by me and strengthened me, that through me
the preaching might be fulfilled and all the nations hear:
and I was delivered from (the) lion's mouth. The Lord
will deliver me from every evil work and will save me unto
his kingdom the heavenly."

Again in verse 1 1 all have deserted him but one : "Luke
only is with me." But in verses 19-21 he is surrounded
by a numerous company, "Eubulus and Pudens, and Linus
and Claudia, and the brethren all." Out of such contra-
dictions nothing can be made,- save only that there is no
hint at anything like the Neronian persecution. The writer
or writers seem not to have known any tradition concern-
ing it, which they could work into these pastorals.

The first Epistle of Peter, addressed to the elect of the
dispersion in Northern Asia Minor, is much concerned with

528 THE MONIST.

the persecution and "fiery trial" that has overtaken them,
but though apparently written from Rome ("Babylon,"
v. 13) it contains not the remotest reference to the "fiery
trial" through which it is supposed the church there had
passed. Some reference, however, under such circum-
stances, would seem to be so natural as to be almost in-
evitable.

Not even in the Apocalypse do we find any clear or
even probable allusion to an event that would have bulked
so hugely in the early Christian consciousness. f On this
point we need not enlarge; enough to refer to the works
of Mommsen and Neumann; even Furneaux admits that
"The supposed references .... are certainly in great part
to be otherwise explained," though he still thinks there
"are points in which such allusions can hardly be excluded,"
an opinion that seems to be the last remnant of departing
prejudice. Why then did the Apocalyptist not refer to this
tremendous persecution distinctly or at least unequivocally,
if he had ever heard thereof?

Turning now to Clement of Rome, we find him (C. 5)
very naturally setting before the eyes of his correspondents
"the noble examples that belong to our generation." The
fierce persecution detailed by Tacitus must have been per-
fectly known to him, yet he seems never to have heard of
it. The sufferings of Peter he attributes to "unrighteous
jealousy." "Not one nor two but more trials he underwent
and so having borne witness he fared to the appointed
place of glory. By reason of jealousy and strife Paul
exemplified the prize of patience. Seven times cast into
bonds, exiled, stoned, made preacher both in east and west,
he received the noble renown of his faith, having taught
the whole world righteousness and come to the bounds of
the west, and having borne witness before the rulers, so he
departed from the world and fared unto the holy place,
having become a chiefest pattern of patience." We do not

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 529

pretend to know the exact meaning of such words ; it seems
doubtful whether Clement himself knew. But it seems
certain that they convey no hint of the Neronic persecu-
tion as described in the Annals; nay more, they seem to
imply unmistakably that their author had never heard of
any such "fiery trial."

Passing to the "Ignatians," we find the letter to the
Romans written in a style and mood of extreme exaltation.
"Ignatius" yearns passionately for the arena, he longs to
be ground as wheat by the teeth of wild beasts. Surely
if he had ever heard of the terrible experience of the
Romans themselves such a rhetorician would have let some
hint escape him. But he does not, and his silence appears
to admit of but the one and the same explanation.

It is superfluous to pass in review the other Christian
writers of this era. They are consistently dumb on the
subject under discussion, and their collective stillness makes
the argument from silence as convincing as in the nature
of the case it ever can be.

Far down the stream of history, over one hundred
years from the date of the conflagration, we find at last,
in a fragment quoted by Eusebius (H. E. IV, 26) from a
Libellus addressed to Antoninus (Aurelius) by Melito,
Bishop of Sardis (near A. D. 170), the first Christian
allusion to Nero as an enemy of Christians. It declares:
"For what has never before happened, the race of the pious
is now suffering persecution, being driven about in Asia
by new decrees. . . .for our philosophy formerly flourished
among the barbarians, but having sprung up among the
nations under thy rule, during the great reign of thy an-
cestor Augustus, it became to thine empire especially a
blessing of auspicious omen. And the most convincing
proof that our doctrine flourished for the good of an em-
pire happily begun, is this — that there has no evil happened
since Augustus's reign, .... only Nero and Domitian, per-

53O THE MONIST.

suaded by certain calumnious men, wished to slander our
doctrine, from whom also it has come to pass that the false-
hood has been handed down by unreasonable custom of
information ('sycophancy') against such (Christians)."
One moment we may pause to note that the good bishop
goes back to the reign of Augustus for the origin of "our
philosophy," which had already existed among the "bar-
barians" (i. e., the Jews, — Tatian calls the Jewish Scrip-
tures "barbaric,")15 and which must then have been essen-
tially monotheism, — and then we observe that he has ap-
parently no knowledge and no idea of the Neronian perse-
cution as now set forth in Tacitus, and that he is arguing
that good emperors have tolerated while only the wicked
have discountenanced Christianity. Hence he adds : "But
thy pious fathers corrected their ignorance, having fre-
quently rebuked in writing many who dared to attempt
new measures against them" — in evidence whereof he re-
fers to Adrian's Epistle to Fundanus and to many others.

No new furrow need be driven through the field so
well plowed by Keim, Overbeck, Mommsen, Schiller, Light-
foot, Ramsay, and others. It is enough that Melito, who
seems to have been so exceedingly well versed in the rela-
tion of Christianity to the state, still gives no hint of any-
thing resembling the Tacitean persecution . And yet to do
so would have suited the purposes of his argument ad-
mirably. With great force he could have said : "Nero the
matricide, the worst of men, Nero did indeed persecute us
atrociously, to hide his own iniquity, as your own historian
Tacitus bears witness, and behold what swift and just and
terrible vengeance overtook him !" How could Melito have
failed to make such a telling and obvious point?

Another descent brings us to Tertullian, who admittedly
knew and made use of Melito's booklet in his own Apolo-
geticum. His argument is the same, that good govern-

18 In describing his own conversion (Address to the Greeks, c. 29).

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 53!

ment favored and bad government disfavored the Chris-
tians, but he is far more reckless in assertion. He declares
(C. 5) that "Tiberius, when intelligence reached him from
Syria Palestine of what had there revealed truth of Divin-
ity itself, reported to the Senate with the weight (praero-
gativa) of his own vote. The Senate, because it had not
itself tested, rejected (his proposal) ; Caesar maintained
his judgment, threatening peril to accusers of Christians."
Let the reader not be surprised at such history made to
order. "Consult your records (commentaries), there you
will find Nero the first that raged with Caesarean sword
against this sect when rising most at Rome. But in such
a founder of our condemnation we glory even, for whoso
knows him can understand that only something signally
good was condemned by Nero. Domitian too made trial,
a portion of Nero in cruelty, but being also man readily
he checked his own beginning, restoring even whom he had
banished. Such always our persecutors, unjust, impious,
base, whom you yourselves are wont to condemn, those
condemned by whom you are wont to restore."

Here one begins to suspect that Nero is made to play
the role of persecutor only because he was so perfectly
suited to the part. But even Tertullian reveals no notion
of such a Neronian persecution as we read of in Tacitus.
Yet he was acquainted with this historian, whose Historiae
he cites at length (C. 16), on whose name he puns, whom
he cordially hates for defaming the Jews. Had he read
of Nero's burning the Christians alive, would he have used
such vague and commonplace imagery as "raged with
Caesarean sword" and "through Nero's cruelty they sowed
Christian blood" ? Remember that Tertullian was a rheto-
rician to his finger-tips — would he have neglected such an
exceptional opportunity for the display of his thrice-favorite
art?

It seems needless to discuss still later testimony, as that

532 THE MONIST.

of Lactantius (De mort. persec. 2), of Origen (Eus. H. E.
Ill, i) of Eusebius (H. E. II, 25), and of Jerome; these
late writers have at last learned after two centuries or more
of ignorance that Peter and Paul fell victims to Neronian
fury, but they still have no idea that Nero falsely accused
the Christians of setting the city on fire, nor do they hint
that a "vast multitude" lit up the Roman night with the
flames of their burning bodies. Not until the fourth cen-
tury, in Ep. 12 of the forged correspondence of Paul and
Seneca, do we read that "Christians and Jews, as if con-
trivers of (a) conflagration, when put to death are wont
to be burned." But even here the allusion, if there be any,
to the Neronian persecution is extremely vague.

It must be added that the Jews are here associated
with the Christians, that they could hardly have been
sharply separated in Rome A. D. 64, that they far more
than Christians were open to the charge of hatred of the
human race ("Against all others, hostile hate" — Tacitus,
H. 5, 2), that they had already felt twice in Rome (under
Tiberius and under Claudius) the weight of the imperial
hand, that Lucan, Pliny, Persius, Seneca — all writers of
that era, speak of the Jews with sharpness, never of the
Christians, and it will appear practically impossible that
they could have escaped in any such persecution as the
Tacitean. But if they did not escape, if they suffered, this
must have been known to their great historian and cham-
pion, Josephus, who was a young man at the time.

Now this writer in his Archeology (XX, 8, 3) protests
against the gross inaccuracies and falsehoods of the biog-
raphers of Nero, both favorable and unfavorable, while
disclaiming any intention to correct or supplement them
in general; "But what things befell us Jews we shall ex-
hibit with great accuracy16 shrinking to show plainly
neither our calamities nor our sins." If then even a few

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 533

Jews had fallen victims in the capital to Neronian calumny
and savagery, there seems to be no doubt that Josephus
would have known and noted it. Yet he gives not the
slightest hint that any such rumor had ever reached his
ears.

Here then we stand in presence of the unbroken and
universal silence of over two hundred years concerning
an alleged event of capital importance, transacted in the
very center of knowledge and information and rumor, yet
never once mentioned by any one among many whose es-
pecial interest it was to tell of it often and to dwell on it
at length. Nor can any one suggest the slightest reason
for this silence, for this studied suppression of a highly
momentous and dramatic incident in a reign that was a
favorite subject of historic delineation and that lent itself
especially to high coloring and picturesque exaggeration.
Such considerations seem ample to weight the scale heavily
against the genuineness of the passage in question.

B. On looking more narrowly at the whole Tacitean
context, we find that it suggests quite independently many
doubts kindred and hardly less grave. The account of the
great fire extends through six chapters beginning with the
38th: "Follows a disaster, whether by chance or by guile
of the prince, is uncertain." A vivid description is given.
Chapter 39 tells how Nero did not return from Antium
till the flames approached (as they ultimately devoured)
his house. He took instant and popular measures to relieve
the homeless and destitute, but "without avail, since rumor
had gone abroad that at the very moment of the city in
flames he had gone upon a private stage and sung the Fall
of Troy, likening present ills to ancient calamities." Chap-
ter 40 tells of the end put to the conflagration\t foot of the
Esquiline, and of its second outburst involving fewer
deaths but more widespread destruction. Chapter 41 enu-
merates some of the elements of the fearful loss. Chapter

534 THE MONIST.

42 tells how "Nero made use of his country's ruins and
erected a house" in which the genius and audacity of Sev-
erus and Celer would defiantly outvie the prodigality of
Nature herself. It seems plain that the immense achieve-
ments and immenser conceptions of these architects and
landscape gardeners must have required years for their
elaboration and even partial execution. Chapter 43 tells
of the rebuilding of Rome itself not in the old irregular
fashion, but "with rows of streets measured out, with
wide-wayed spaces, with limited height of buildings, and
areas laid open and colonnades added to protect the front-
age of the tenements (insularum) ." This description is
elaborated and what part Nero took in the rebuilding is
emphasized. These changes pleased in general both by
their utility and by their beauty, though some there were
that said the old was better.

A city can not be rebuilt in such substantial fashion
("with stone from Gabii or Alba, impervious to fire") in
a day or month or year, nor without enormous outlay of
money, and the imperial treasury seems to have borne the
weight of the expense. It is not strange then but nearly
inevitable that the next chapter should continue thus:
"Meanwhile by contributing funds Italy was laid waste
throughout, provinces subverted and allied peoples and
whatever states are called free. Even the gods fell a prey
to this plunder," their temples being robbed of gold and
votive offerings and even the images of the gods them-
selves.

It appears then that chapter 45 is the natural and almost
inevitable continuation of chapter 43, stating the necessary
consequences of the methods and aims of Nero as therein
set forth. Between these two chapters thus so closely
united in thought we now read chapter 44, which has no in-
timate connection with either.

"And these things (the gradual Neronian rebuilding)

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 535

were provided by human counsels. Next (mox) were
sought propitiations to the gods and recourse was had to
the Sibyl's books, whence followed supplication to Volcan
and Ceres and Proserpine, and Juno was propitiated by
matrons, first in the Capitol, then at the nearest point of
the sea, with water drawn whence the temple and image
of the goddess were sprinkled; and sacred banquets and
night-long vigils did the women celebrate who had hus-
bands. But not through human effort, not through lar-
gesses of the prince nor appeasements of the gods did the
ill report subside, but still the fire was believed (to have
been) ordered. Therefore to get rid of the rumor Nero
substituted as guilty and subjected to most exquisite tor-
tures (those) whom hated for their abominations the pop-
ulace used to call Christians. The author of this name,
Christus, had been executed in the reign of Tiberius by
procurator Pontius Pilate; and though repressed for the
moment (this) pernicious superstition was breaking forth
again, not only through Judea, source of this evil, but
even through the capital where all things hideous or shame-
ful pour together from everywhere and catch the crowd.
Accordingly first were hurried away (to trial those) who
confessed (the charge), then by information of these an
immense multitude not so much for the crime of incendiar-
ism as hatred of the human race were convicted (or con-
joined, convicti or conjuncti). And to them perishing
were added mockeries, (as) that clothed with hides of
wild beasts they should die by mangling of dogs, or affixed
to crosses or doomed to flames, and, when day had de-
parted, should be burned for purpose of nocturnal illumi-
nation. Nero had offered his gardens for that spectacle
and was exhibiting a circus show, mixing with the crowd
in the garb of a charioteer or standing on a car. Whence
although towards persons guilty and deserving the most
exemplary punishment there arose pity, as if not for public

53^ THE MONIST.

good but unto the savagery of one man they were being
sacrificed."

Let the reader of this chapter thus literally translated
judge whether it fits in with either chapter 43 or 45, which
fall so naturally together. Let him note that the whole
story is intrinsically improbable; that it implies a very old
and long established and numerous church in Rome, and
a hatred on the part of the people that seems at that time
quite incredible; that no proper meaning can be attached
to "were confessing" — confessing what? Arnold naturally
replies, the charge of "firing the city." But that seems
wholly incredible. Surely they had not fired it and would not
lie against themselves. Ramsay thinks they confessed they
were Christians, Von Soden even so translates it ! Doubt-
less. But Christianity was not then a capital offense; it
was only the crime of burning Rome that could bring down
on them such condign punishment. Moreover these "first
seized" not only confess but implicate an "immense multi-
tude." In what? In firing the city? Impossible! They
were not guilty. In being Christians? Equally impos-
sible. There was not an immense multitude of Christians
in Rome, and even if we understand only a few score by
this multitude ingens it seems impossible that the few first
seized would betray the whole Christian community to
such a monster as Nero. That would have been neither
wise as serpent nor harmless as dove. Here then the
story is unbelievable. Note again that the spectacle must
have endured for a long time, else surely the Roman mob,
used to such sights, would not have felt pity for a class
of hated criminals who had burned two-thirds of Rome and
caused unspeakable ruin and woe. And why do Suetonius
(Ner. 38) and Dio Cassius (62, 16, i) and Pliny (N. H.
17: i, i, 5), who all have no doubt that Nero himself
ordered the conflagration, and who must have known of
such a long continued slaughter of innocents, why do they

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 537

never even remotely allude to such a tremendous matter?
Lastly, when did this persecution take place? Naturally
one would suppose that the report started at once, while
men's minds were wild with excitement, as did the rumor
of Nero's fiddling mid the flames of Rome. But no one
can gain such an idea from chapter 44, which mentions the
report after the account of Nero's architectural recon-
struction and indicates that he took severe measures not,
as would be natural, in the heated state of public feeling,
but only long after and because the report refused to abate.
This is not indeed incredible, but it is certainly perplexing.

And what can be the force or reference of "meanwhile"
(interea), with which the next chapter opens? If we
omit chapter 44, the reference is obvious, the term is so
appropriate as to be almost unavoidable: Nero was re-
building Rome on a scale of unexampled grandeur at in-
calculable outlay of imperial treasures. "What an abyss
of expense! Whence came the necessary funds?" involun-
tarily exclaims the reader. The author answers: Mean-
while Italy, the provinces, the allies, the free states, the
very sanctuaries of the gods were devastated to meet the
prodigious cost. Now insert chapter 44. At once the
connection is broken, the thought is left hung in the air,
extraneous and remotely related matters distract the at-
tention, and when the subject is resumed in chapter 45,
there is found nothing in chapter 44 to which the "mean-
while" can refer— for it is unreasoning to say "Nero was
burning Christians and the people were moved to compas-
sion, meanwhile the empire was plundered." We must
go back to chapter 43 to find the natural attachment for
chapter 45 — a clear indication that the intervening chapter
has been interpolated.

C. Does some one (as Von Soden) object that the style
is too Tacitean not to be genuine ? WTe reply that quite as
good imitations are frequent enough. In his Letters to

THE MONIST.

Dead Authors Mr. Andrew Lang has reproduced admir-
ably a dozen widely diverse styles, none of them at all like
his own. Such a tour de force is exceptional, but it shows
that the limits of possibility in such matters are very wide.
Besides, are we sure that the style is really so much like
that of Tacitus? Careful scrutiny has perhaps not yet
been made, but there are certainly counter-indications.
We pass over the well-known facts that the text is here
particularly wavering; that it is strange that Tacitus
should speak of Pontius Pilate merely as procurator, with-
out specifying of what, whereas such a form of speech
was most natural for the interpolator; that the extremely
harsh judgment of the Christians is puzzling in the in-
timate friend of Pliny from whom he would almost surely
have learned better ; that the "vast multitude" is an exag-
geration more than Tacitean and not at all paralleled by
the iacuit immensa strages of An. VI, 19," and we would
fix attention solely on one purely stylistic consideration,
the expression humani generis. The whole sentence has
sorely vexed the wits of commentators, but especially these
words. Muretus (following Faernus?) boldly strikes out
the word humani and understands by generis the Christian
race! Acidalius sees that this cannot be and accordingly
alters humani into Romani: They were condemned for
hatred of the Roman race! Indeed it seems almost im-
possible that Tacitus should have written humani generis.
Everywhere else he writes generis humani.18 It is in the
last degree improbable that such a consummate stylist as
Tacitus would here just this once deviate from his lifelong
habit, especially as the inverse order produces with the

"The slaughter is called immense because it struck "all" (cunctos) the
implicated friends of Sejanus, without regard for age or sex or other condi-
tions; but a multitude is huge only by its mere number.

"As Ann. III. 59, XII. 14, Hist. I, 30, III. 68, V. 25, Ag. 2. Editors in
general make no note of this fact. After this study was complete, the writer
observed the remark of Nipperdey: " humani ? generis, Sonst sagt Tac. stets in
der gewohnlichen Ordnung genus humanum."

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 539

foregoing word a disagreeable hiatus: odio humani. No
very delicate ear is needed to perceive that odio generis is
a much pleasanter collocation. Besides the whole weight
of Tacitean related usage falls against the inversion. It is
the fixed custom of the historian to modify genus by follow-
ing and not preceding words. Thus genus hominum (three
times, almost the same as genus humanum), genus anima-
lium, belli, niilitum, mortalium, mortis, questus pensi,
orandi, maiorum, tclornm, spectaculorum, belli, studiorum,
pugnac, Arsacis, vitae, and generis regii. Apparent ex-
ceptions to this rule are readily seen to be due to rhetorical
considerations, especially to the desire to maintain the fa-
vorite order: adjective, genitive, (modified) noun, as in
omne mortalium genus (An. XVI. 13), novum oflicii genus
(Hist. 1. 20), and to make emphatic, as in oppidanum genus
(An. VI. 15), pernix genus (Hist. II. 13). We may affirm
then with much confidence that the inversion in question
of itself stamps the passage as not from the hand of

Tacitus.

* * *

By three entirely independent lines of inquiry we are
led to precisely the same result. Look at it as you will,
the chapter wears the appearance of being interpolated.
Indeed, it must be, not unless one of these signs fail, but
unless they all fail, unless all are simultaneously and in the
same sense misleading. Even if the doubt raised by each
one of these separate inquiries were not very strong, even
if it still left the chances two to one in favor of the genuine-
ness, yet the chance that all three would thus simultane-
ously deceive would be only eight in twenty-seven, the
chances would be nineteen to eight in favor of interpola-
tion. We have no choice then. Coerced by this consilience
of results, we must regard the passage as probably inter-
polated, unless there be some strong antecedent reason in
favor of genuineness and against interpolation.

54O THE MONIST.

Is there any such reason? Certainly not. The whole
history of post- Apostolic and patristic literature shows that
interpolation was a most familiar favorite. In fact, it
would rather seem strange if such an opportunity had been
neglected. We conclude then decisively that this famous
chapter, as it now stands, is with compelling probability
to be ascribed to another hand than that of Cornelius
Tacitus. But even if entirely genuine and uncorrupted it
would still be worthless in evidence, for it merely states a
rumor about an alleged occurrence of nearly a hundred
years agone. Accordingly, the passage is in all likelihood
inadmissible in court; but even if admitted, it could prove
nothing to the point.

The allusions of Suetonius to the Christians are the
following : "Judaeos impulsore Chresto assidue tumultuan-
tes Roma expulit," — Claudius, XXV. "Afflicti suppliciis
Christiani, genus hominum susperstitionis novae et male-
ficae," — Nero, XVI. Both of these appear too slight for
the basis of any judgment.

It will be noticed that there is no reference to the
Founder of Christianity. The force of the impulsore
Chresto is uncertain. It may refer to some Roman Jew
named Chrestus, who stirred up his compatriots to riot,
or it may refer to Messianic agitation among the Jewish
populace, to their disputes among themselves about the
Messiah, the Chrestus. Be this as it may, there is here no
implication of the life and death in Galilee and Judea. Dio
Cassius, however, says (IX, 6) he "did not expel" them
but forbade their assembling and dissolved their clubs
authorized by Gaius. On the other hand, Acts xviii. 2
refers the presence in Corinth of Aquila and Priscilla to
this decree of Claudius expelling "all the Jews from Rome"
— a statement almost certainly exaggerated.

The second mention occurs in a list of severe regula-
tions made in Nero's time. If genuine, it would show

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 541

merely that "Christians" were known as early as Nero,
which would add nothing to our knowledge, and that they
were on some occasions condignly punished. Possibly the
notice in Tacitus is merely an expansion of the brief deliv-
erance by Suetonius. A much more probable cause of the
"punishments" would be some such disturbances as oc-
curred under Claudius impulsore Chresto or provoked Ti-
berius to expel the Jews from Rome (Suet. Tib. XXXVI).
Among the latter were included similia sectantes, whom
also Tiberius Urbe submovit sub poena perpetuae servi-
tutis, nisi obtemper assent. The sectantes are thought to
be converts to Judaism, possibly they were incipient Chris-
tians. The words nisi obtemper as sent seem to indicate
great turbulence or unrest among the Jews under Tiberius
near the supposed date of the crucifixion. This seems in-
trinsically highly probable, at least to us who regard the
whole Christian movement as the outcome of generations,
even centuries, of agitation among Jews and their prose-
lytes. Sharp separation between Jews and Christians does
not seem possible till the second century, especially the era
of Bar Cochab.

The letter of Pliny to Trajan may also be quoted in this
connection. It says nothing of the origin or Founder of
Christianity; at most it tells only of the practices of the
Christians in Bithynia about A. D. no. There is no impli-
cation, not even the slightest, touching the pure-human
reality of the Christ or Jesus. Whether this correspond-
ence of Trajan and Pliny be genuine or not, is accordingly
quite indifferent for the purpose of this discussion.

Any investigation of the matter would be superfluous
at this stage of the argument. Lucian (120200 A. D.) in
his De Morte Peregrini, n, 41, in Alexander, 25, 31, and
in the perhaps spurious Philopatris, 12, makes mention of
"Christians" and the "man impaled in Palestine," but only
under the Antonines ; Dio Cassius also, but A. D. 220.

542 THE MONIST.

Herewith the references to Christianity in pagan litera-
ture before A. D. 150 are exhausted. After that date the
Gospel story had certainly taken definite form; it is wide-
spread among Christians, who are themselves numerous
throughout the empire; it has certainly reached the eats
of the heathen, and any number of allusions in profane
writers would merely attest the currency of the Gospel
story, but would supply no testimony whatever to its au-
thenticity. It seems useless then to quote this literature
any further. We close this scrutiny, therefore, with this
result, already announced: Profane history supplies no
testimony whatever to the pure-human character of Jesus.

In order to estimate properly the value of this argu-
tnentum e silentio, we must remember that apparently the
profane writers could have had no motive in suppressing
information if they possessed it. Christianity was for them
merely a pernicious and despicable superstition,19 they
would have been rather pleased to trace it back to a crim-
inal crucified in Jerusalem. On the other hand, it is un-
likely that any reference by the pagans would have been
allowed by the Christians to perish. These latter were very
jealous of all such material of argumentation and cherished
it, as is shown vividly by the admitted fact that they even
invented it diligently.

Possibly the heathen may have felt little interest in the
crucifixion, its antecedents and its consequents; but the
same cannot be said of Josephus. As a Palestinian Jew, a
professional historian and a chronicler, it seems altogether
impossible that he should not have known or have heard
of the Life and Death of Jesus. He tells us minutely enough
if somewhat obscurely of John the Baptist (Arch. 18, 5, 2),
but John was in no way comparable with Jesus. In fact, he

19 The terms used by Tac. Plin. Suet, are strikingly alike and suggest, but
do not prove, some kind of interdependence or common dependence : Exitia-
bilis superstitio, superstitionem pravam et immodicam, superstitionis novae el
malificae.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 543

fills his pages with events altogether trivial by the side of
the words and deeds of the Nazarene. It is not only to us
at this 1900 years' remove, in the perspective of history,
that the events appear in such relative significance. There
was nothing in the career of John to match the execution
on Calvary : nothing to pair with the works of Jesus, mini-
mize them as you may. If Jesus was pure-human, then he
was an astounding personality, in name and fame the Bap-
tist must have been comparatively insignificant. Consider,
too, how closely the twain were related, the Forerunner and
the Messiah. For the gossipy annalist to know of John,
but not of Jesus, would be as if the contemporary historian
of the Reformation should know of Zwingli but not of
Luther.

We dismiss then the hypothesis that Josephus was ig-
norant of the Christ, if the latter was pure-human, as alto-
gether impossible. But knowing of him, could he have
passed him by in silence intentionally? It seems hardly
possible. If Josephus was a Christian (in secret), surely
he would let pass no such opportunity to do his faith in-
estimable service. If he was sincerely an orthodox Jew
(as almost certainly he was, so the Christian writers them-
selves attest), he must have believed that his countrymen
did right in rejecting the pretender, he must have rejoiced
in their action, — why then suppress it? Or even if he was
uncertain in mind, then he must have pondered the matter,
must have deemed it of high importance, and as it occupied
his thoughts, why did he forbear all expression ? No ! we
can not understand the silence of the historian, except on
the supposition that Jesus was unknown to him histor-
ically. It was precisely this circumstance that puzzled the
Christians themselves of the early centuries and induced
one of them to cut the Gordian knot by interpolating the
section 3. In fact, the marvel would be if some one had
not made just such an interpolation. As already observed,

544 THE MONIST.

such insertion of apt material at proper places was a favor-
ite form of that early logic.

Bishop Lightfoot admits with apparent irritation that
Josephus has preserved a "stolid silence about Christian-
ity," but thinks this "can not be owing to ignorance, for a
sect which had been singled out for years before he wrote,
as a mark for imperial vengeance at Rome, must have
been only too well known in Judea." Of course, the allu-
sion is to the Neronic persecution, and the reasoning sounds
plausible. But we have just seen that this persecution is a
matter for the very gravest doubt. Moreover, we see no
reason why the Messianic agitators in Rome should take
their cue from Palestine, or why the name Christian might
not have been known in Rome even earlier than in Pales-
tine. In fact, the name was not Palestinian, if we may
believe Acts xi. 26, 20 it was applied to the Disciples at
Antioch and was for an uncertain period only on the lips
of enemies (not, however, Christians but Chrestians) .21
We see, indeed, no reason why such a movement might not
have started independently in various places and nearly
simultaneously. That there was originally any unity or
central dependence in the propaganda is decisively nega-
tived by Acts in more than one place, as already set
forth in Der vorchristliche Jesus. It seems unquestion-
able that the greatest variety of faith prevailed in the
early communities; from Rome to Jerusalem no inference
is allowable.

Much more, however, not only does the fact that the
Gentile called groups of the new faith by the contemptuous
name of "Chrestians," by no means imply that these recog-
nized the name and thought of themselves as distinct from
Jews and proselytes, but the opposite seems attested by
Acts xxi. 26, where it is said to Paul, "Thou seest, brother,

"Cf. xxvi. 28; i Peter iv, 16.

a From Xpr;<rTis = Xptords, Blass, Gram. N. T. Grk., pp. 8, 63.

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 545

how many myriads there are among the Jews of them that
have believed, and all are zealots for the law." These then
had by no means separated themselves from the faith of
their fathers, they were still one with the people.

If then Josephus knew of Christianity in Palestine, as
is likely, he knew of it as one among many shades of relig-
ious enthusiasm or conviction, which had not detached it-
self from the general mass, which had not yet taken definite
shape and outline. As thus inchoate and nebulous or con-
founded with the Essenes, it may have appeared to him
of little significance and easily have been passed over when
he treated of the principal sects of Jewish philosophy (B. J.
II, 8, Arch. XVIII, i ) . It is only when we assume the cur-
rent hypothesis concerning the origin of Christianity, that
the silence of Josephus appears strange and "stolid." But
if it came not by observation, so that one could say "Lo
here!" if its coming was like the gentle play of summer
lightning, illuming the whole circuit of the Mediterranean,
shining all round nearly simultaneously, it may very well
have long escaped recognition as a distinct phenomenon.
Especially if, as seems now to be proved decisively,22 it was
in large measure a mystery-religion propagated in great
secrecy, if it was first heard in the ear and only much later
proclaimed on the house-top,23 if the "beautiful deposit"24
of doctrine was committed to the novitiate under solemn
and awful circumstances and only after "the beautiful con-
fession" had been made under imposition of hands "be-
fore many witnesses,"25 then such a secret cult carefully
"guarded" might long escape the notice or at least the
interested attention of a Josephus. Such reflections seem
to break completely the force of the great bishop's argu-

" In the writer's forthcoming book, Ecce Deus.

* Matt. x. 27 ; Luke xii. 3.

* TrapaWiKil, I Tim. vi. 20; 2 Tim. i. 12, 14.
*I Tim. vi. 12-13.

54^ THE MONIST.

ment, of which the sinew lies in the tacit assumption of all
that theory of the beginnings of Christianity which we set
out to disprove.

How then shall we sum up the situation? Thus:

a. It is morally certain that the Josephine passage
(Arch. XVIII, 3, 3) is a Christian interpolation.

b. The Josephine passage concerning James (Arch.
XX. 9, i) has certainly been tampered with by Christian
hands and as it now reads is almost surely an interpolation.

c. The chapter in Tacitus lies under the very gravest
suspicions.

d. The sentences in Suetonius may be genuine, but they
attest nothing strictly relevant. Like may be said of the
Pliny-Trajan correspondence.

e. Even if the utmost should be conceded to these pagan
authorities, they would still bear witness to two things
only : ( i ) That so early as Nero there were so-called Chris-
tians or Chrestians in Rome, and that they fell under the
extreme displeasure of that emperor. (2) That so early
as perhaps A. D. 117 the origin of the Christian Cult was
referred to a Christ that was said to have been crucified in
Judea by Pontius Pilate (say A. D. 30), 80 or 90 years,
nearly three generations, before.

Further than this these profane depositions do not go.
It is seen at once that they do not touch the real point at
issue, and we may now re-state as fully proved our first
thesis: Extant profane literature is silent concerning the
life, career, and death of a pure-human Founder of Chris-
tianity.

But may there not be non-extant profane testimony,
over which the oblivion of centuries has settled? Impos-
sible ! For remember that the Christians were keen-witted
and numerous, that they were nurtured in age-long con-
troversy, that they had every reason, incentive, and oppor-
tunity to preserve any and every profane witness to the

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 547

traditional origin of their system, which would have been
invaluable in their debate with unbelievers. Men like Jus-
tin who peered into every cranny and crevice of Scripture
for confirmation of their story, like Clement and the apol-
ogists who ransacked every corner of pagan literature for
materials of argument, like Melito and Tertullian and the
whole industrious hive of interpolators and pseudonymists
who invented history and scriptures wholesale as needed,
— not six generations of these one and all would have ne-
glected or overlooked any and every profane testimony in
their own behalf, when even a single one would have been
the end of controversy.

No! The fact that no Christian writer cites any such
testimony is decisive proof that there was no such testimony
to cite, and we may now finally affirm that the negative
external witness, of contemporaneous history and litera-
ture, is as clear, as strong, as complete, as conclusive, as in
the nature of the case it is possible for such witness to be.
The negative internal witness, of the New Testament itself,
has already been found to be eloquent and unequivocal.
Positive counter-proofs in great number and variety all con-
verge like meridians upon the same thesis. In a word, the
pure-human Jesus of the critics is denied and the Divine
Jesus of Proto-Christianity is affirmed by every form of
consideration that has yet been adduced. What else is
needed to shape the judgment of unbiased reason?

ADDENDUM.

The reader may not unnaturally ask, "But what has
the illustrious Guglielmo Ferrero to say on this subject?"
His notable work on the Greatness and Decline of Rome
conies down to A. D. 14, just half a century short of the
Conflagration, but elsewhere, as in his Lecture on Nero
(Characters and Events of Roman History, pp. 103-141),
he glances at the flames, though scarcely with a severely

548 THE MONIST.

critical eye. "The history of Caesar's family, as it has been
told by Tacitus and Suetonius," he expressly rates as a
mere "sensational novel, a legend containing not much
more truth than the legend of Atrides" (p. 138) ; and yet,
strange to say, precisely where this novel is least credible,
where it ceases to be intelligible even, and where the appar-
ent attestation is reduced one-half, being that of Tacitus
alone unsupported by Suetonius, precisely there he accepts
it eagerly, not merely at par but rather at a premium, and
without the smallest grain of critical salt to save it. Wit-
ness the following quotations:

"An inquiry into the causes of the conflagration was
ordered. The inquest came to a strange conclusion. The
fire had been started by a small religious sect whose name
most people then learned for the first time : the Christians.

"How did the Roman authorities come to such a con-
clusion ? That is one of the greatest mysteries of universal
history, and no one will ever be able to clear it. If the
explanation of the disaster as accepted by the people was
absurd, the official explanation was still more so" (p. 131).

And again: "... .but it certainly was not philosophical
considerations of this kind that led the Roman authorities
to rage against the Christians. The problem, I repeat, is
insoluble. However this may be, the Christians were de-
clared responsible for the fire ; a great number were taken
into custody, sentenced to death, executed in different ways,
during the festivals that Nero offered to the people to ap-
pease them. Possibly Paul himself was one of the victims
of this persecution" (p. 133).

"Behold how small a fire how great a wood enkindles !"
How much more about this "inquiry" and "inquest" does
Ferrero know than did Tacitus, and yet Tacitus is Ferrero's
only authority, and that too an authority already emphat-
ically discredited as "a sensational novel" ! The plant of
History would seem to be a hardy annual and at times

THE SILENCE OF JOSEPHUS AND TACITUS. 549

might be likened to a grain of mustard seed. It is interest-
ing to surprise it now and then as it grows.

But the important point is that the brilliant Italian
distinctly and repeatedly declares "the problem is insol-
uble." And well he may. For while no one will question
the keenness of his analytic faculty or the vigor of his re-
constructive imagination, yet even these and more can
hardly avail to make clear the general detestation of the
few "pious idealists" whom "the people used to call Chris-
tians" while the same name had never yet been heard "by
the most of the people" ; or to explain how "a great num-
ber" (strictly "an immense multitude" — as Church and
Brodrib render it) could be sentenced and executed out of
"a small and peaceful congregation."

Gibbon and more especially Schiller have argued that
it was the Jews who were slaughtered in such numbers
and amid such torments. Impossible, as we have seen;
for in that case Josephus would have known and made
mention of such a calamity to his countrymen. And why
should Tacitus commit the blunder of substituting the
nearly unknown Christians for the familiar Jews ? Others
have guessed that the Jews under the patronage of Pop-
paea incited Nero against the Christians — their own kins-
men ! But not only is this conjecture a wholly gratuitous
calumny on the Jews, but it presupposes a bitter hatred
and an ancient grudge of Jews against their Christian
brothers, such as was unreal and impossible at that time
even in Jerusalem, much more among the liberal Jews of
the Dispersion (Compare Acts xxi. 20, xxviii. 17-25).
Moreover, if the Jews had slandered the Christians in such
infamous and ruinous fashion, why does not at least one
among so many Christian authors, all of whom would have
eagerly exploited any such fact or any such rumor, make
some mention or give some hint of such a prodigious in-
iquity? No! Ferrero is right, and his admission is sig-

55O THE MONIST.

nificant : it is quite impossible to understand the "mystery"
of the Tacitean passage regarded as genuine, "no one will
ever be able to clear it." What then is the obvious sug-
gestion? Is it not that the incomprehensible chapter is
spurious, or at least altered beyond recognition from some
unknown original?

The temptation is great to hazard some speculation as
to the genesis of this chapter (44), and to connect it with
the strange fortunes of the Annals, as preserved in the
two unique Medicean manuscripts; however, we will not
put forth upon any such sea of conjecture, but will hug
close the safe shore of Ferrero's avowal that the assumed
"genuineness of the passage in Tacitus," — so far from be-
ing "not open to reasonable doubt," — confronts us with an
insoluble riddle, "one of the greatest mysteries of universal
history."

WILLIAM BENJAMIN SMITH.

TULANE UNIVERSITY, NEW ORLEANS.

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST

DECADE.*

TEN years ago I presented to the readers of The Monist
a review of the philosophical works which had ap-
peared in France during the preceding decennial period
( 1889 to 1899). I would like to offer them a similar sketch
to-day. However, I shall not enter into specific criticism
of the works as I did then, but shall limit myself to a simple
review and shall merely mention certain names. My plan
will be to indicate as far as possible the principle directions
in which they are tending, the purposes which seem to con-
trol them, and to observe the sort of rhythm which impels
workers in this field to treat their problems alternately ac-
cording to different or even contradictory methods, which,
nevertheless, end by correcting one another. Upon the
vigorous impulses which lead us to attack the great ques-
tions face to face and in their entirety, follow the lesser
ambitions which make us cling to details, to patient veri-
fications, to minute analyses, even though occasionally pro-
ceeding by indirect paths.

* * *

The broad attempt at psychological interpretation of
social facts — both political and economical — so brilliantly
begun by the lamented Tarde seems almost abandoned
since the death of its famous promoter.

Moreover it is true that his style was less suited to

* Translated for The Monist.

552 THE MONIST.

instruction than to personal research and that his vast syn-
theses can not always be accepted as such since they are
often founded upon analogies which are too far fetched.
But I have expressed myself before on this subject in these
columns and I do not wish to be exposed to the charge of
repetition.

After Durkheim, Tarde's most vigorous antagonist,
had published his large works, he continued in L'annee so-
ciologique the application of the method for which he had
formulated rules. Following him, his collaborators now
direct their attention to the special processes of instruction
and criticism; detailed studies abound in great number,
particular questions are pursued as closely as possible (such
as the study of sacrifice made by Hubert and Mauss) ; in
short, research bears with preference upon precise facts
definitely limited.

E. de Roberty, one of the combatants of the first rank,
has now brought his voluminous work to a close. We
might say that like Durkheim he differs from Comte, their
common master, as much as he follows him. It has been
his constant purpose to determine the subject matter of
sociology, to discover in how far social facts are objective
things, the material of abstract science or concrete, and
how they may be studied apart from the subjective facts
of consciousness. At this we are led to inquire whether
psychology precedes sociology, or is itself derived from it,
and in what measure — a problem of method and doctrine
no less than of classification.

To Roberty there can be no doubt on this point. In
his opinion psychology follows directly from sociology as
a continuation of social data. He does not accept the ex-
tension of Ostwald's "energetic" laws to these data. They
are only valid, he says, for composites (cosmo-biosocial),
for concrete social data. But how can it be proved that
these laws affect also the "social component" of these data ?

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST DECADE. 553

In order to avoid all confusion it is important to draw dis-
tinctions with care. We must not interpolate the psycho-
logical method between the biological and the social meth-
ods for the psychological and social methods only dupli-
cate each other. The social method constitutes alone the
abstract method, the psychological method being merely
its principal expression, or its simplest concrete externali-
zation. This view which reverses the terms of the old
relation will prevent us from falling back into the illusion
either of the idealists or of simple materialism. The quali-
ties of the soul will not directly explain social phenomena
nor will mechanics furnish the direct explanation of psy-
chical phenomena.

To sum up: Given psychical interaction as a special
mode of universal energy, that is to say, the transformation
of consciousness into cognition, of biological energy into
superorganic energy, and we have the cause of what we

call civilization.*

* * *

Nevertheless psychology, which thus becomes concrete
for the sociologist, may be treated by psychologists as ab-
stract. Or, if we prefer in order to avoid all contradiction
of terms, psychologists have two chief methods of con-
sidering and investigating psychological data. They may
legitimately consider those data ( I ) as detached from the
individuals in which they are manifested, that is to say
in general terms, by relating them to some leading or ex-
planatory fact; or (2) as in the individuals themselves
in the form of definite and particular phenomena.

According to the first of these methods we find general
psychology preferably portraying either sentiments, ideas,

* Ostwald's energetics, a concept which solves the ancient antinomy be-
tween matter and energy, ought, according to Roberty, to be judged as a for-
ward step of general logic, which evolves in some fashion at the same time
that our collective (or socio-individual) experiences are increased. This
approaches to some extent the concept of universal unity as logical or abstract
monism, according to its philosophical conception.

554 THE MONIST.

or some other category of philosophical data in the light
of an hypothesis or of a directing principle as Ribot has
done in his "motive theory" or Fouillee in his "idea-ener-
gies" ( idees-forces ) .

It was given to Ribot during these last years to ac-
complish the revision of the entire psychological domain.
To his work, the most important which any psychologist
has ever accomplished (as I have shown more than once
in these columns), he now adds supplementary studies.
Among these are his articles on the problems of affective
psychology, and it is not necessary to point out once again
the close relation which these bear to his general theory
of the primacy of sensibility in contrast to the "intellec-
tualist" views still defended by some psychologists.

Fouillee has continued to apply to the critique of psy-
chological theories his principle of the "idea-energy" which
is at the same time the "appetite" or "desire" of Spinoza
and the "will" of Schopenhauer. His work cannot be put
into the balance with that of Ribot; moreover the object
of the two men is not the same. Fouillee presents a very
general theory rather than attempting to write a psychology
in detail, and proposes an interpretation of psychological
data conforming to this theory, or, rather, to its applica-
tion.

In certain respects it is not a good thing to have the
study of psychical data depend too closely upon a philo-
sophic point of view nor is it well for the observer to regard
living reality in the light of his own prejudices or systems,
because the new impressions that objects make upon him
are confounded with former impressions in his mind and
only an inaccurate and confused image can result. I do not
mean in the least to imply that the doctrine, the initial
hypothesis, should be a matter of indifference. Just as in
chess there are moves leading nowhere that good players
would never make, so in psychology there are points of view

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST DECADE. 555

from which data are seen but indistinctly or in a false light.
Such in Ribot's eyes would be that of intellectualism.
Doubtless it would be as great a mistake to look to strictly
mechanical theories for the only possible systematization
of psychological data. Those who, with Bergson, regard
the data from the point of view of a metaphysical idealism,
or with Dwelshauvers, of an improved spiritualism, have
pointed out the faults of pure mechanism. Some new
studies on the function and diseases of language have led
scholars like Dr. Marie and Dr. Moutier to recognize that
the difficulties of language do not arise from the nerve cen-
ters but from the mind itself, and that they are disorders
of the intellect and not of the senses. Being physiologists,
these men do not declare for the primacy of the intellect
but keep within the field of their investigations. But the
results of their researches (which have invalidated the
premature theory of Broca) ought to show once for all that
psychological data constantly take us into the presence of
"functions" which are not explained by the simple play of
certain elements that analysis has succeeded in detaching
from them.

Nevertheless analysis is not shorn of its value, and par-
tial or even imperfect syntheses mark the necessary steps.
Works of detail remain in favor among psychologists as
well as among sociologists. Thus Paulhan, completing
his studies on character, has treated of the Morale de I'iro-
nie and of the Mensonge de I'art; Binet has turned his
attention to pedagogic problems ; Pierre Janet, G. Dumas,
and Sollier to pathological states, to the emotions, asso-
ciation, etc. Van Biervliet, the distinguished Belgian phys-
iologist, has summarized and given an appreciation of the
state of laboratory research in his interesting Causeries
psychologiques and in his La psychologie quantitative, a
book of great value.

To these names it is proper to add several others:

556 THE MONIST.

Flournoy, Dugas, Revaut cTAllonnes, Grasset, Harten-
berg, Mile. Toteyko and Mile. Stefanowska (a fine work
on Grief), etc. I am forced to pass these over since I
cannot give a complete review at this time.

I must not return to the works of Souriau and Griveau
but just a word to call them to mind may be in order.

When Souriau discussed "rational beauty" (Beaute
rationelle) and gave to art the idea of "perfection" he
surely touched bottom at a certain depth but the surface
is constantly changing. One can only enter the protest
that the artist aims at a certain perfection ; his only concern
is that he be understood on the conditions of this perfection,
that he define the value of the various elements that enter
into the work of the painter, the architect and the musician !
Nevertheless I gladly grant that in this way it is possible
to show more clearly the relations between esthetics on the
one hand and logic and science, intelligence and sensibility
on the other; in other words to throw a brighter light on
the special problems of art.

Grieveau set himself the task of discovering the prin-
ciples that govern the adaptation of our internal rhythm
to the rhythm of objects. He has dealt with the vast sub-
ject as a sincere poet of nature, treating it in various forms
in writings which do not savor of the schools nor of lessons
performed or assigned. His pages abound with valuable
observations and useful hints, and permit an insight into
a metaphysics grounded on the laws of a universal rhythm.

There is a new author of undisputed ability named
Charles Lalo who in his turn approaches esthetics by a
trenchant critique of the experimental school (L'esthetique
experiment ale contemporaine) and by original studies in
music (Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique) .
I have given an account of his theory in two somewhat ex-

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST DECADE. 557

tensive articles in the Revue philosophique and shall here
indicate only its most essential features.

Two considerations appear in the foreground. One is
a development suited to art, an internal dialectic by which
music would develop independently of the secondary ex-
ternal conditions to which almost exclusively writers like
Taine and Guyau give emphasis. The other consideration,
which would seem at first to contradict the preceding, has
to do with the dominant influence of society; for society
alone has created the "values" of art, has systematized
and prescribed the technique, that is, the totality of qual-
ities required in each age in order that a work be considered
as "good." The theory of Lalo becomes thereby a socio-
logical theory according to which social activity, differently
understood than in the old theories of environment and
of the race, is employed here in helping and supporting
the evolution of art from within, in establishing and pre-
scribing the results of the dialectic that governs its evo-
lution.

I have tried to apply these principles to the other arts,
but the development of painting or architecture, for ex-
ample, seems to be more dependent on external conditions
than that of music which offered a kind of privileged case ;
and above all the "value" does not seem so strictly and
constantly a "collective" thing as Lalo, following Durk-
heim perhaps too closely, would have it appear.

One of the reasons why I have enlarged upon his work
is that it afforded me an opportunity to treat anew the
delicate question of the relation of individual psychology
to the so-called "collective" psychology. This problem
has a place in every chapter of psychology since we would
know nothing of our feelings, our ideas, even our logic,
without the influence of society and the long continued
education of our species. We have seen that in their own
way sociologists also admit the question when they dispute

558 THE MONIST.

the rank of psychology in a classification. In fact, this
problem is not only interesting from the theoretical side,
it constantly arises in practical affairs under the guise of
reciprocal obligations on the part of the individual and the
state, of anarchy and government, and, let us add, of tra-
ditional morality and the so-called morality "of nature."

No question is discussed with more feeling just now
than that of morality. It is so closely connected with the
religious question that they can hardly be separated. We
certainly can not pass by with indifference the controver-
sies bearing upon textual criticism, traditionalism and mod-
ernism, etc. They enter upon the subjects of authority,
of the church, historical origin of Christianity and of the
various religions. But whereas they have a direct interest
for only a rather limited public the general diffusion of
their conclusions on the conduct of life has suddenly as-
sumed extraordinary importance.

There has been no dearth in recent years of works de-
voted to the criticism of ethics and its leading conceptions,
some authorities professing to dispense with ethics entirely
or to regulate and systematize it. Suffice it to name among
the philosophers the principal writers that have treated the
subject from a broad point of view, viz., Fouillee, Levy-
Bruhl and G. Belot. Neither their methods nor their phi-
losophy are the same. One discusses the value and content
of a system of ethics, another proposes a structure modeled
on his own theory. I shall not enter into a detailed exam-
ination, keeping myself to the question itself taken as a
whole. As a matter of fact, when I come down from the
leading authors to the writers of manuals or to second
rate men, I cannot help a feeling of distress. I feel too
strongly the ridiculous side, I see too clearly the puerility,
the vanity of these attempts when the strength of the

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST DECADE. 559

effort does not bear witness to a loftier thought by which
they are inspired and supported. The death of all moral-
ity, at any rate of the old-fashioned morality, will perhaps
be the "fine spectacle" of which Nietzsche dreamed, that
is reserved for our remote, if not our immediate, posterity;
but it is certain that the immanent ruin of all duty and
virtue, the upheaval of the fundamental institutions on
which our society rests, are facts that are hardly reassuring
and from which even now we see disquieting results.

Duties have their birth in social life, obligation is based
on habit. These as I myself have frequently said, are the
two essential characteristics of a positive morality. More-
over, it is necessary that the duties be felt, that the habits
be formed and retained. And here difficulties arise. Even
assuming that what duties were necessary for the welfare
of society could be agreed upon (which is far from prob-
able), there remains the question of how to impose them.
The systems of morals that would fain be scientific confess
themselves powerless here. Religious morality alone, what-
ever its doctrine may be worth, exerts a real authority
of efficient constraints, and the reason is that it bases its
precepts on truths undisputed by those who accept them,
that it makes its appeal to faith. But the act of faith which
gives to religions their power has its genesis in historical
circumstances that cannot be artificially reproduced. Here
lies the difficulty of an ethics independent of dogma. Not
possessing the means of creating the faith which would
give it life, we must have recourse to the demonstrations
of reason, — a support all too frail in the eyes of the major-
ity of mankind !

There could be no greater madness, therefore, than to
wish to suppress by force the religious school, as our
Jacobins, theorists or politicians try to do, because it is
at least one of the sources from which moral habits arise.
Such men by their "state-catechism" taught by priests

560 THE MONIST.

a rebours pursue an illusory unity, a fallacious harmony
of minds. They dread the competition of the free school
and ward off discussion, which however is not disease but
life.

Extremes soon meet their counterparts. A fairly ac-
tive reactionary tendency has betrayed itself for several
years in favor of metaphysics (inclining toward idealism
or spiritualism) against scientific materialism, or rather
against the unwarranted employment of mechanical ex-
planations when these hide too conveniently the blocks
over which science still stumbles. One party of our young
men follows Poincare, another proclaims Bergson as its
leader. In Bergson's work this party hails a restored
metaphysics set forth with the charm of poetry but basing
at least its bold propositions and clever metaphors on
minute psychological analysis and a penetrating critique
of cognition or of ideas.

Bergson reproaches science for seeing only the immo-
bile ; he wants to seize upon and feel motion, to see nature
in a flux, and to this end he intends to place himself inside
of things, no longer outside of things, — a difficult operation
that obliges us, since we cannot get away from the con-
ditions of cognition, subjective or objective, to proceed at
the same time by both analysis and synthesis, by science
and divination. But does not this attitude amount to ex-
plaining the external by the internal, the internal by the
external ? Would it not lead us to conceive things under
new figures and to express them by new names rather than
to explain them in a light that would cause them to be
seen in a different way and more clearly?

So it comes about that the notion of duration as defined
by Bergson implies increase and creation in time, and the
notion of vital impulse signifies the force included in evo-

PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE DURING THE LAST DECADE. 561

lution and, for the time being, covers appetite and will.
But I have no desire to summarize or criticize such an
extensive and careful book in the space of a few lines. 1
merely wish to indicate the important place it occupies and
the direction which its philosophy indicates.

I shall not return to Binet's endeavors, of which I have
spoken on former occasions at sufficient length, along the
line of the relations between body and soul; nor shall I
revert to the works of Le Dantec. Neither biologists nor
metaphysicians, in short, have succeeded in making us see
more clearly into the phenomena of consciousness, intellect
and instinct. All one can say is that, in spite of many
failures, our researches have resulted in placing us in a
truer attitude toward the problems of life and the spirit.
And surely this is of itself no slight advantage.

At bottom the problem of cognition remains one of the
leading questions of modern philosophy. But our philos-
ophers approach it in a very different way from that of
their forerunners, and the problem itself seems to have
assumed a different form. Whereas formerly the endeavor
was made to investigate the means of cognition and to
define its modes and scope, the aim in our day is rather
to criticize the results (Poincare), to estimate the true
value of the laws of science and the validity of its hypoth-
eses— a sort of expectant attitude that has with some exag-
geration been called anti-intellectualism. I would see anti-
intellectualism most particularly in the mystic theories of
the unconscious and of instinct (Bergson) arising out of
psychological studies and tending in effect to limit and
reduce the role of the intellect.

In this chapter I must also mention some exceedingly
interesting writers, curious and original minds, such as
Jules de Gaultier, A. Chide, Boex-Borel (Le pluralisme).
The opportunity to make them better known to my readers
may present itself some day.

562 THE MONIST.

It is necessary to add that historical studies, dealing
with an entire period or with certain philosophers con-
sidered separately have likewise not been wanting? Be-
sides the Collection des grands philosophes which is grow-
ing rapidly, it may suffice to mention the very considerable
work of Joseph Fabre, who conducts us from ancient
thought to "modern thought"; that of Francois Picavet,
who covers the Middle Ages ; that of H. Delacroix, devoted
to the mystics; the Vinci of Duhem, and of Peladan; the
Kant of V. Delbos, etc.

I ought likewise to mention the attempts at collective
work undertaken by separate sections and commissions in
the Institut generate psychologique. Studies have been
made with varying success in the psychology of animals
(Perrier, Bohn, Hachet-Souplet) and the phenomena of
spiritism (the extended report of J. Courtier). Special
problems in esthetics have been broached beginning with
a study of visual memory in the painter.

This activity is encouraging. I cannot, however, fore-
bear a feeling of sadness at the approaching disappearance
of the strong generation to which we owe the magnificent
impulse and fine work of the last thirty years. A new gen-
eration is at our door that will gather the harvest in its
turn. It will no doubt apply itself to testing the results
achieved and to revising our provisional conclusions. May
it succeed in adding largely to our common store!

LUCIEN ARREAT.
PARIS, FRANCE.

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCI-
ENCE.

MORE and more the conviction grows and spreads,
that science is or is to be the light of the world.
The one supreme gift of education is or is to be the scien-
tific attitude of mind. The problem of problems, therefore,
is to understand, to make lucid, to make conscious, to
make transmissible the essentials of scientific thinking.

The bond of harmonious world-life is the scientific habit
of mind. How horribly we have been hypnotized by words
and out-worn creeds, while even yet eighty percent of us
die from causes completely preventable.

The marvelous objective contributions of science flare
up on every hand about us. The chemist's coal-tar colors
are not more vivid than the lurid light of electricity, now
a household fairy with telephone and electric smoothing
iron. While the X-rays reveal our very bones and wireless
telegraphy pierces the blackest of ocean's tempests, we are
unastonished while Sir William Ramsay and Madame
Curie debate whether the dream of the alchemists, the
transmutation of metals, has come true.

But these gemmed palaces uprising at the rubbing of
the Aladdin's lamp of science, looked at only from with-
out, unmastered, lend themselves only too readily to the aid
of the false magician, dealer in the magic of words.

Calling Christ scientist was the shrewd appropriation
and utilization by Mrs. Eddy of the universally growing
conviction of even the densely unscientific that science is
the hope of the world. Willingness to try the swallowing

564 THE MONIST.

of a cholagogue with so sympathetic a trade mark was
actually stimulated by the real wonder-working of true
science. Men and women can be charmed with words.
Things, much more stubborn, bow only to the sovereignty
of one kind of thought, the scientific. What then are the
identifying characteristics of this the only lawful prince?

For example, wherein differ these three beliefs, the be-
lief of the Coreans that epileptic fits are demoniacal sei-
zures to be treated by trying to cast out the devils, the
Mrs. Eddy contention that there is no sickness and the
epileptic fits are only illusions caused by malicious animal
magnetism, a suppositions entity relief from which she has
actually sought in our law courts, and finally the position
of the Japanese army-surgeons that an epileptic fit is a
phenomenon produced by an abnormal explosive discharge
of nerve force overflowing proper channels, self-limited
as the flood from a bursting water tank, not stopped by the
exorcising of a demon? An epileptic seizure is often pre-
ceded and heralded by a distinctly recognizable aura. Is
the one who feels the oncoming stroke, to pray, to tele-
phone for the police, or instantly to snuff up the nose the
fumes from an uncorked bottle of nitrite of amyl?

From nothing assumed, nothing can be proved ! Every
conclusion supposes premises. But even the learned have
heretofore not realized that the necessary hypotheses of
science are of two distinct kinds. Every one has recog-
nized those hypotheses which are valuable precisely because
they are either verifiable or else refutable through definite
appeal to the tests furnished by what we have called ex-
perience and experiment. However, what we call experi-
ence and experiment is not all. No scientist has ever been
able to get on without hypotheses. But the essential thing
is never to make them unconsciously, and the scientist of
the past has here been a sinner.

The epoch-making revelation is that among the scien-

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCIENCE. 565

tist's necessary assumptions, both conscious and uncon-
scious, are some of a kind hitherto unrecognized, of a
genus wholly different from what he thought them, hy-
potheses wholly and forever indemonstrable, which ex-
perience and experiment, however interpreted, are eter-
nally inadequate to prove. Once pointed out, the antithesis,
the contrast between these two species of scientific hypoth-
eses is strikingly abrupt. The routine scientist, taken
unawares, would be tempted stoutly to deny the scientific
importance, yea, the very existence in science, of hypoth-
eses of this newly revealed type. What! a scientific
hypothesis by its very nature incapable of proof ! Far be
it from him! Yet to these unrecognized friends he has
owed, he owes all his success. From their stimulus, with
their guidance under their protecting wings he has done
all his work toward interpreting his experiments, his ex-
perience, his world.

Such a hypothesis, yet so long misunderstood, is Eu-
clid's celebrated parallel postulate, familiar in Ludlam's
form: Two straight lines which cut one another cannot
be both parallel to the same straight line.

How easy this hypothesis ! Why not prove it? Almost
every man of science throughout the ages did try to prove
it. Says Poincare: "What vast effort has been wasted
in this chimeric hope is truly unimaginable."

At last comes the new step. Says Lobatchevsky : "In
the uncertainty whether through a point there is only one
straight coplanar with a given straight yet nowhere meet-
ing it, we will assume it may be possible that there are still
other straights which do not cut the given straight, though
coplanar with it and through the given point."

Here then we have Euclid's hypothesis characterized as
a scientific assumption forever indemonstrable and there-
fore subject to direct, explicit contradiction, subject to re-
placement by an assumption flatly contradicting it.

566 THE MONIST.

Bolyai speaks just as explicitly of the system of geom-
etry resting upon Euclid's hypothesis, and the system
founded on the contrary hypothesis, that there are co-
planar straights not both perpendicular to any third, yet
which nowhere meet, straights which are asymptotes each
to the other. And this Bolyai geometry is of a logic nowise
inferior to the Euclidean.

Is, then, the Euclidean geometry true? This question,
says Poincare, has no meaning. As well ask whether Car-
tesian coordinates are true and polar coordinates false.
But says Professor Roe, the sun will rise to-morrow and
must rise in time and space.

Too late, my dear Professor, too late. Since the hy-
pothesis of Copernicus, the sun does not rise, the earth
rotates. Since the hypothesis of Bolyai, if it rose in geo-
metric space it might be Lobatchevsky's, but it does not
rise in a geometric or conceptual space. Such space is
one, empty, homogeneous, continuous, unbounded, perhaps
infinite, infinitely divisible, identical, invariable. But the
where of physical motion, if we still insist upon calling it
some kind of space, is perceptual space, hence multiple,
filled, heterogeneous, perhaps continuous only for percep-
tion, perhaps finite, not infinitely divisible, variable. Our
physical world is neither in Euclidean nor non-Euclidean
space, for these are conceptual constructs. Geometric
space is a construction by the intellect, made by methods
entirely analogous to the ordinary ways in which we
achieve our selfish purposes, and call the achievement truth.

The certainty of the science of geometry is only the
certainty of deduction from hypotheses, and because of
the final necessity of unverifiable hypotheses, we must now
have some criterion other than proof. Here is one: Of
alternative hypotheses is to be chosen the simplest now
for us.

Man is the measure of all things. The debate, what

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCIENCE. 567

is truth? is a wrangle unless it gives precedence to the
kenlore question, How can reality like a new planet swim
into my ken? Then we find our knowing is ever subject
to our wishing. As Schiller says : "At a blow it awards to
the ethical conception of Good supreme authority over the
logical conception of True and the metaphysical conception
of Real. The Good becomes a determinant both of the
True and of the Real. Our apprehension of the Real, our
comprehension of the True, is always effected by beings
who are aiming at the attainment of some Good, and it
seems a palpable absurdity to deny that this fact makes a
stupendous difference." That is clung to as real which
has entangled itself in our emotional life. Could you in-
duce a dear old lady to give up her conviction of the im-
portance of circumcision and the devil ? And I agree with
her as to one and beg to differ as to the other.

How well I remember that wrhen it was my privilege to
study astronomy with Newcomb he showed that the Ptole-
maic hypothesis was perfectly adequate for the calculation
of eclipses, only too cumbersome as compared to the Coper-
nican, while on the contrary the three Kepler laws offer
no definite or complete solution of the problem of the move-
ments of the heavenly bodies, their importance being that
of the fabled apple, they hit the tremendous head of Newton.

John Bolyai it was who in 1823 first wrote down that
quality of an infinite aggregate which in these latter days
of tardy appreciation we have adopted as its definition:
"An infinite aggregate is one equivalent to a part of it-
self."

You know the algebraic paradox that two equals one,
an excellent way of justifying our convention that you must
not divide by zero; but though only every other integer
is even, yet for every number there is an even number, —
the whole is not greater than its part — for every point on
a yard there is a point on a foot.

568 THE MONIST.

The hypothesis of the uniformity of nature is unveri-
fiable. Here it is : Reproduce all the conditions of a certain
phenomenon, that phenomenon will reappear. Of this Dr.
Carus has lately said : "It would be useless even as a work-
ing hypothesis ; for, as Mrs. Warren truly explains, we can
never reproduce the very same conditions a second time."

But Royce of Harvard, in his introduction to my trans-
l lation of Poincare's Science and Hypothesis, says of what,
Uo fix the ideas, I here call okapi hypotheses:

"These are far less frequently recognized in a perfectly
explicit way as useful aids in the work of special science.
One usually either fails to admit their presence in scientific
work, or else remains silent as to the reasons of their use-
fulness. Our author's treatment of the work of science
is therefore especially marked by the fact that he explicitly
makes prominent both the existence and the scientific im-
portance of hypotheses of this second type. These hypoth-
eses which can neither be confirmed nor refuted by experi-
ence appear partly ( like the conception of 'continuous quan-
tity') as devices of the understanding whereby we give
conceptual unity and an invisible connectedness to certain
types of phenomenal facts which come to us in discrete
form and in a confused variety; and partly (like the larger
organizing concepts of science) as principles regarding
the structure of the world in its wholeness; i. e., as prin-
ciples in the light of which we try to interpret our ex-
perience, so as to give to it a totality and an inclusive
unity such as Euclidean space, or such as the world of the
theory of energy is conceived to possess. Those aspects
of science which are determined by the use of the hypoth-
eses of this second kind appear in our author's account as
constituting an essential human way of viewing nature, an
interpretation rather than a portrayal or a prediction of
the objective facts of nature, an adjustment of our con-
ceptions of things to the internal needs of our intelligence.

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCIENCE. 569

Unverifiable and irrefutable hypotheses in science are in-
deed, in general indispensable aids to the organization and
to the guidance of our interpretation of experience. Char-
acteristic remains the thought that without principles
zvhich at every stage transcend precise confirmation
through such experience as is then accessible the organi-
zation of experience is impossible. They may therefore
be described as hypotheses that, while lying at the basis of
our actual physical sciences, at once refer to experience
and help us in dealing with experience, and are yet neither
confirmed nor refuted by the experiences which we possess
or which we can hope to attain."

Three special instances or classes of instances may be
used as illustrations of this general type of hypotheses.

They are : ( I ) The hypothesis of the existence of con-
tinuous extensive quanta in nature; (2) The principles of
geometry ; ( 3 ) The principles of mechanics and of the gen-
eral theory of energy. In the case of each of these special
types of hypotheses we are at first disposed, apart from
reflection, to say that we find the world to be thus or thus,
so that, for instance, we can confirm the thesis according to
which nature contains continuous magnitudes ; or can prove
or disprove the physical truth of the postulates of Euclid-
ean geometry; or can confirm by definite experience the
objective validity of the principles of mechanics. A closer
examination reveals the incorrectness of all such opinions.
Hypotheses of these special types are needed; and their
usefulness can be empirically shown. They are in touch
with experience; and that they are not merely arbitrary
conventions is also verifiable. They are not a priori ne-
cessities; and we can easily conceive intelligent beings
whose experience could be best interpreted without using
these hypotheses. Yet these hypotheses are not subject to
direct confirmation or refutation by experience. They
stand then in sharp contrast to the scientific hypotheses of

57O THE MONIST.

the other, and more frequently recognized, type, i. e., to
the hypotheses which can be tested by a definite appeal to
experience.

The central problem of the logic of science thus becomes
the problem of the relation between the two fundamentally
distinct types of hypotheses, i. e., between those which can-
not be verified or refuted through experience, and those
which can be empirically tested.

One value of unverifiable and irrefutable hypotheses
of this type lies in the sort of empirical inquiries which
they initiate, inspire, organize and guide. In these in-
quiries hypotheses in the narrower sense, that is, trial prop-
ositions which are to be submitted to definite empirical con-
trol, are indeed everywhere present. Yet without the "lead-
ing ideas" of science, that is, its principles of an unveri-
fiable and irrefutable character, the hypotheses in the nar-
rower sense would lack that guidance which the larger
ideas of science give to empirical investigation."

And now from the cavayard of young giraffe and okapi
found new-prancing in the fair field of modern dynamic,
following here Poincare's delineation, I shall cut out two
for exhibition. Voila!

What characterized the Newtonian mechanics? Simply
this: Take a body at rest; give it an impulse, that is, im-
press on it a given force for a given time ; the body starts
to move and acquires a certain velocity. The body having
this velocity, if we again impress the same force during
the same time, the velocity will be doubled. If we still
continue, the velocity will be tripled after we shall a third
time have given the same impulse. Thus beginning again
a sufficient number of times, the body will end by acquiring
a very great velocity, which could surpass any limit, an
infinite velocity.

In the new mechanics, on the contrary, we suppose it
impossible to give to a body starting from rest a velocity

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCIENCE. 57!

greater than that of light. What happens ? Consider the
same body at rest; give it the same impulse as before; it
takes the same velocity. Repeat again this impulse, the
velocity will augment, but it will not be doubled. A third
impulse will produce an analogous effect, the velocity aug-
ments but less and less ; the body opposes a resistance which
becomes greater and greater. This resistance is inertia,
is what we commonly call mass.

Everything happens, then, in this new mechanics as if
the mass was not constant, but increased with velocity.

We may represent the phenomena graphically. In the
Newtonian mechanics, the body takes after the first im-
pulse a velocity represented by the sect Ovi ; after the sec-
ond impulse, Ov\ increases by a sect ViV<t equal to it. At
each new impulse, the velocity increases by the same
qantity; the sect representing it increases by a con-
stant length. In the new mechanics, the velocity-sect in-
creases by sects v\v'z> v\v'z, . . . which are smaller and
smaller and such that we cannot exceed a certain limit, the
velocity of light.

How have we been led to such a conclusion? Have
we made direct experiments ? The divergence would show
only for bodies at high velocities; then alone the indicated
differences would become sensible.

But what is a very high velocity? Is it the speed of an
automobile going at the rate of 100 kilometers per hour?
On the road we go wild at such speed ; but for the present
view-point this is a snail's pace. Astronomy serves us
better. Mercury, the speediest of the heavenly bodies, also
goes about 100 kilometers, not per hour but per second;
but still that is not quick enough ; such speeds are too slow
to reveal the differences we would observe.

I shall not speak of cannon balls. They are faster than
automobiles, but much slower than Mercury. But you
know we have discovered an artillery whose projectiles are

572 THE MONIST.

quicker far : I mean radium, which shoots out energy pro-
jectiles, in every direction. The rapidity of the shot is
greater far; the initial velocity is about a hundred thou-
sand kilometers per second, one-third the velocity of light.
The caliber of the projectiles and their weight are, it is
true, less formidable, and we must not count on this artil-
lery to increase the military strength of our armies. Can
we experiment on these projectiles? Such experiments
have actually been undertaken. Under the influence of an
electric charge, of a magnetic field a deviation happens
which permits taking account of inertia and measuring it.
It has thus been established that mass depends upon veloc-
ity, and the following law has been enunciated : The iner-
tia of a body increases with its velocity which remains
always less than that of light, 300,000 kilometers per sec-
ond. In other words, for this non-Newtonian dynamics a
constant force acting upon a moving body does not impart
equal increments of velocity, equal accelerations, in equal
times, say in each successive second; but the accelerative
effect decreases as the velocity increases, and this has for
limit the velocity of light. There can be no motion swifter
than that of light, about 186,330 miles per second, a very
tiny number, while on the other hand the mass of ever so
little a body approaches absolute infinity as the measure
of its speed approaches this trivially tiny number. Surely
this dwarf and giant annex to the staid old Sir Isaac New-
ton museum, though masquerading as the outcome of ex-
periment, is as bizarre as the okapi of Sir Harry Johnston,
defined in the last of the two splendid new volumes of the
Century Dictionary as having the upper parts dark pur-
plish brown ; forehead and ears reddish ; sides of face nearly
white; legs buff, the flanks and upper parts marked with
horizontal blackish stripes resembling those of a zebra, —
certainly a color scheme run mad.

Yet after all, this non-Newtonian mechanics owns an-

THE UNVERIFIABLE HYPOTHESES OF SCIENCE. 573

other hypothesis not less surprising. A body in motion
of translation undergoes a deformation in the line of its
displacement; a sphere for example, becomes a species of
flattened ellipsoid with the shorter axis parallel to the
translation. If such a transformation is not seen every
day, this is because it is so minute as to be almost imper-
ceptible. The earth revolving in its orbit deforms itself
about one two hundred millionth. To observe such a phe-
nomenon instruments would be needed of precision ex-
treme; but were their precision infinite it would not help,
because, carried themselves in the movement, they would
undergo the same transformation. We should see nothing.
The meter we could use would shorten like the length we
measured.

Yet even this has not been accepted as settling the spe-
cies of this bizarre creature. It is claimed that Michelson
has shown it to be not okapi but giraffe by verification,
and largely this won him the Nobel prize, forty thousand
dollars.

Finally, the notion of constant mass of a body having
vanished, having evaporated, what becomes of Newton's
law -of gravitation?

Motion plays havoc with it, and Lorentz has replaced
it by a new law of attraction containing the velocities of
the two bodies as parameters.

The greater the velocities, the greater the difference
between Newtonian and non-Newtonian.

Now of all the planets Mercury has the greatest veloc-
ity, and just Mercury presents an anomaly not yet ex-
plained: the motion of its perihelion is more rapid than
the motion calculated by Newton's law. The acceleration
is about 38" too great. Now the Lorentz law of gravita-
tion would make the acceleration greater than that given
by Newton's law.

GREELEY, COLO. GEORGE BRUCE HALSTED.

FORMAL THOUGHT THE BASIS OF KENLORE.

EPISTEMOLOGY is one of the most ponderous words
in the English language, but it can easily be replaced
by the simple Saxon term "kenlore," which describes the
process of cognition and would thereby explain how things
come within the range of our ken. Our readers will find
the term used in Professor Halsted's most interesting ar-
ticle on "The Unverifiable Hypotheses of Science," pub-
lished in the present number of The Monist, where he
rightly claims that there are certain hypotheses which "are
yet neither confirmed nor refuted by the experiences which
we possess or which we can hope to attain." One of them
is the parallel postulate on which Eulidean geometry rests,
and he is well aware of the fact that there are other geom-
etries based upon other assumptions which are just as "un-
verifiable and irrefutable," and he calls them "okapi" hy-
potheses, comparing them to that rare giraffe species called
Ocapia Johnston's Sclater. Professor Halsted's treatment,
based on Poincare's Science and Hypothesis, is quite in-
structive because he raises an important problem and ven-
tilates it in his own ingenious way. We will add, however,
that on several salient points we do not agree with him,
and so we will here improve the opportunity of presenting
our own views in contrast to his.

The difference between our views and those of Pro-
fessor Halsted are perhaps insignificant when compared to
the agreement between us. Like him we believe "that sci-

FORMAL THOUGHT THE BASIS OF KENLORE. 575

ence is to be the light of the world/' and it may be that
we only explain the facts on which he, together with Pro-
fessor Poincare, insists.

Professor Halsted enumerates his unverifiable hypoth-
eses as, "(i) the existence of continuous extensive quanta
in nature, (2) the principles of geometry, (3) the prin-
ciples of mechanics and of the general theory of energy."

Professor Halsted distinguishes between unverifiable
hypotheses and the real scientific hypotheses, saying that
the former can neither be proved nor refuted while the
latter are subject to verification. He overlooks, or at least
tacitly passes by, the fact that these so-called unverifiable
hypotheses are at the bottom of all scientific thought. They
are, what Kant calls transcendental, the condition of cog-
nition itself, and thus enter into every part of the fabric
of our thought. For this reason mystics have actually
claimed that all knowledge is unverifiable, and what Pro-
fessor Halsted calls scientific hypotheses, which, he claims,
are subject to verification, presuppose that the other more
general problems of the unverifiable hypotheses have been
settled. They refer to those special problems in which all
interest is concentrated on the evaluation of definite facts
of experience while the underlying general principles of
thinking are taken for granted. Nowhere in our thought
can we dispense with the general principles of the formal
sciences.

Professor Halsted does not seem to be aware of the fact
that all of his so-called unverifiable hypotheses refer to the
underlying principles of the formal sciences, and they will
be disposed of by a solution of the problem as to the nature
of form and formal thought. We have discussed the prob-
lem of formal thought repeatedly and will here restate a
summary of our solution, which takes a middle ground
between the Kantian theory of the a priori and experimen-
tal sensualism as represented by Locke and his followers,

5/6 THE MONIST.

though we must add that upon the whole we follow Kant
more than the sensualists because Kant saw the problem
without solving it, while the sensualists attempted a solu-
tion without being familiar with the problem itself.

Briefly stated the situation is this. A sentient being
becomes acquainted with the objective world through con-
tact with surrounding things. Contact makes impressions
which are felt by the senses and in their totality are called
experience. The essential part of experience consists of
feeling, and if we refer to the feeling alone we speak of it
as sense experience but all the several experiences are of
different forms, yea the variety of form is the most ob-
trusive difference by which the various objects are recog-
nized. Every form makes an impression of its own. It
makes its own path and is registered somewhere in the
cerebral substance. A new impression follows the track
into which it fits, and in awakening the memory traces
which are like it, it is felt to be the same as they. This is
the origin of representative thought, of concepts which
have a meaning. In the higher stage of development a
thinking being learns to make abstracts. He learns to take
notice of qualities, and one of the most important qualities
is the quality of form.

The term "form" as here used, implies not only external
shape but also internal conformation or structure. It also
comprises juxtaposition of parts or interrelations between
things, and it is but natural that the highest abstract of
this kind results in a conception of pure form, or the mere
possibility of interrelations. This condition is produced
by abstraction which empties our experience of all sensory
elements, leaving only a potentiality for interrelational
constructions, a void which in my Foundations of Geometry
I have called "the field of anyness."

Here lies the foundation of mathematics. The mathe-
matician does not start from nothing but from this void

FORMAL THOUGHT THE BASIS OF KENLORE. 577

which has been produced by clearing away all particularity,
thus leaving a homogeneous field of universality.

It will be noticed that all the most important axioms
of mathematics as well as the main principles of Aristo-
telian logic are unconsciously derived from this abstract
notion of pure form. This void, this field of anyness, has
been derived from the facts of experience, but the purely
formal sciences are mere mental constructions.

The notion that the mathematician starts from nothing
is wrong. The field of his operations, the void, has been
abstracted from experience and possesses the potentiality
of relationships from which particularities (matter and
energy) are rigorously excluded. This confers by indi-
rection definite and positive qualities upon the void, which
are homogeneity and universality. This means that a defi-
nite construction remains the same wherever and whenever
it may be made, and it applies to any possible configuration
of the same kind. This quality we have called "anyness,"
and it is obvious that this anyness of the formal sciences,
being due to our own making, can neither be confirmed
nor refuted by experience.

Properly speaking anyness is not an hypothesis. It is
the result of a mental operation ; it is a product of abstrac-
tion, and the data from which it has been derived have been
furnished us by experience in the broadest sense of the
word. Accordingly in one way the purely formal sciences
are based upon experience, and in another way they are in
the Kantian sense a priori constructions.

Experience is of an objective character, and thus the
abstraction of pure form is ultimately derived from our
notion of the objective world, yet the general idea of pure
form furnishes only the condition for the construction of
the formal sciences. The real execution of the work is
done by operations of the mind and so this part is purely
mental or subjective.

578 THE MONIST.

The strange thing about our purely formal thought is
the fact that no knowledge is possible without it. It is the
condition of any knowledge, and this feature of it is called
by Kant transcendentalism. As all things are configura-
tions, so the mind itself originates from relational func-
tions by distinguishing between forms, by taking note of
interrelations, by classifying types as genera and species,
by tracing the interdependence of events, etc., and the prin-
ciples of all these activities are identical with the principles
of formal thought.

From these considerations it appears as a matter of
course that being of a purely formal character the general
principles of the purely formal sciences are, as Kant rightly
recognized, the conditions of all experience, or, to use his
term, they are transcendental. They can not be derived
from the data furnished by the senses and so they can
neither be confirmed nor refuted by experience.

The data of the senses are always particularities, but
the fundamental principle of the formal sciences is the
idea of universality, which does not exist in the world of
concrete things. If we so please we may call the homo-
geneity of the void an assumption or, with Professor Hal-
sted, an unverifiable hypothesis, but these names convey
the idea that the principle of universality, the idea of any-
ness and whatever may be implied thereby are arbitrary
notions, that they are unjustified and unjustifiable, while
to any one who has followed our arguments this is ob-
viously far from the mark, and even Professor Halsted
grants that they are "not merely arbitrary conventions."

If we bear in mind our solution of the problem of form
and formal thought, many difficulties which have puzzled
scientists and philosophers and also mathematicians admit
of an easy explanation. One of them is the problem of the
irrational, another the problem of the infinitely great and
the infinitely small, and we will in this connection refer

FORMAL THOUGHT THE BASIS OF KENLORE. 579

to our prior article in The Monist for January, 1910, on
"The Nature of Logical and Mathematical Thought," es-
pecially the part written in reply to Prof. Bertrand Russell
(pp. 46 ff.).

The objectionable feature of infinitude originates mainly
through our neglect to regard mathematical magnitudes
as functions. Every number is really the product of a
function, and infinitude as well as zero are also numbers.
All the zeros and all the infinitudes are not necessarily
equal, for their value depends upon the function by which
they have been produced. It would be a mistake to regard
all infinitudes as the same regardless of their meaning and
origin. By an infinitude we understand a function which
can never be completed. If we consider infinitudes as ob-
jective things that have been completed we become involved
in contradictions, by which we will naturally be puzzled,
just as is the man who tries to catch his shadow, or the
Chinaman who turns around to see his queue. The defini-
tion which declares that "an infinite aggregate is one equiv-
alent to a part of itself" is an ingenious paradox, and we
regard it as only relatively true. If it were taken seriously
it would lead to mysticism.

Whether or not we can call the theorems of the formal
sciences "a priori necessities" depends entirely upon our
definitions both of a priori and necessity. If we accept
Kant's meaning of those terms, purely formal theorems
are certainly a priori necessities. Every one, if it has been
correctly formulated, is on its own ground necessary. But
we have called attention to the fact that there are certain
degrees of a priori. There is the a priori, first, of logical,
and then of geometrical constructions. The former is a
static a priori referring to stationary relations among log-
ical types ; it is the a priori of being. The latter, a dynamic
construction in which the possibility of pure motion is pre-
supposed, is the a priori of doing.

580 THE MONIST.

The domain of the a priori can be more or less rigid,
and when we come to the Euclidean system of homoloidal
space in which two parallel straight lines will cut only if
produced to infinity, we may construct other geometrical
systems in which this principle of parallel lines does not
hold. They are just as purely mental constructions as is
Euclidean geometry, yet besides the giraffe there may also
exist an okapi, and when we construct the geometry of the
even plane we must grant that there are other geometries
possible, such as the geometry of the sphere, of the pseudo-
sphere, of four-dimensional bodies, of curved space, etc.
If our systems of purely formal thought are mental con-
structions, it stands to reason that we ought to be able to
create different systems based upon different principles.

We do not deny the possibility of other geometrical
constructions than those of Euclid, but we regard them
more as evidences of the fact that geometry is a mental
construction, than that other assumptions will prove as
useful or as applicable to reality. And so it is but natural
that these variations have excited the curiosity of only
scholarly minds who have little or no interest in practical
affairs and delight in the idea that there are vast regions
of possibilities which have never been opened up to this
commercially minded generation. It can scarcely be denied
that the systems of Bolyai and Lobatchevsky command a
purely theoretical interest, and that so far as the pragmatic
issues of life are concerned they may be regarded as still-
born children of the genius of mathematics.

From this standpoint the name "okapi" which Profes-
sor Halsted has chosen for these theories seems very appro-
priate, for the okapi is an animal which is on the verge of
extinction. The fate of this animal is tragic, for it has
scarcely burst into fame when we know that it will soon
disappear again.

For those who are not specialists in zoology, I will say

FORMAL THOUGHT THE BASIS OF KENLORE. 581

that the okapi has been known only since 1900. It lives
in remote parts of the Congo Free State and being very shy
it can be trapped by the natives only in pits. It is prac-
tically a stunted giraffe. Its forefeet are shorter and its
neck less high than those of its more favored cousins. In
place of horns it has mere buttons, and its skeleton most
resembles those extinct primitive types of its species which
from the places where they have been found, in Hellas and
in Samos, have been named Helladotherium and Samo-
therium. Naturalists have become assured of the existence
of this rare animal through its fur and skeleton, because it
has been impossible to bring any living specimen within
the sight of the white man. The probability is that the
okapi will soon join the choir invisible where it will be in
the company of the Helladotherium and the Samotherium.

As the okapi is a mere deviation from the giraffe type,
so the okapi theories of mathematics are in principle like
their better known cousin, Euclidean geometry. They are
merely a variety which however proves less fit for survival.
The okapi will have disappeared by the time civilization
has reached to its present abode.

I learn to my surprise from Professor Halsted that the
word "okapi" has only recently been introduced to the
English speaking public in the new appendix of the Cen-
tury Dictionary, whereas the continental lexicons have
been familiar with it since the appearance of the first trav-
elers' reports about the existence of this strange beast.

It is true enough that "the debate 'what is truth/ is a
wrangle unless it give precedence to the kenlore question,"
but we would deny Professor Halsted's assumption that
"we find our knowing is ever subject to our wishing." Re-
ality intrudes upon us and we become acquainted with facts
whether or not we wish to have any acquaintance with
them, and their nature does not depend upon our desire.

The facts are that the thinking subject, being part of

582 THE MONIST.

reality, is in constant interaction with it, and the problem
is, how did the thinking subject originate from reality and
how is a representation of reality possible in the thinking
subject? This, as we have stated, is answered through the
formal sciences. The formal sciences are possible because
the most significant attribute of reality is form, and having
gained a general knowledge of pure form through abstrac-
tion from reality, the thinking subject constructs systems
of pure form which, when we try to describe reality, can
be used as methods of cognition for measuring, counting,
and tracing interrelations.

Kant wondered why our notions of pure form should
tally with the conditions of the objective world, of nature,
of reality; but this fundamental problem of kenlore is
solved if we bear in mind that the general notion of pure
form has been derived through experience from the ob-
jective world.

Formal thought is the origin of cognition and it is ap-
plicable to objective existence because form is the essential
feature of all things. It is not an accident that the natural
laws (e. g., Kepler's and Newton's laws) are summed up
in "formulas" and that universals of any kind are best
described by the word "uniformities." Science practically
consists of classifying forms, of noting interrelations and
tracing transformations.

Even the law of the conservation of energy is based
upon this same foundation. It is a purely formal statement,
for it simply means that nothing originates and nothing is
annihilated, all processes of nature are transformations.
The law of conservation of matter and energy is as purely
a priori as the propositions I + ° = I and i — o = I. It
can neither be refuted nor proved by experience, because
the idea has not been derived from experience but is a
product of mental reflection, the result of pure thought.

The same is true of causation which is only the positive

FORMAL THOUGHT THE "BASIS OF KENLORE. 583

aspect of the law of transformation of which the law of
conservation of energy is the negative counterpart. We
can trace the concatenation of cause and effect, but we can
never prove its universality from experience.

Form is a feature of reality and formal thought orig-
inates in thinking beings in response to the actions of the
form-conditions of their surroundings with which they be-
come acquainted by experience.

The systematic character of the formal sciences is of
our own making, but the conditions of these mental con-
structions have been quarried out of the mine of experience,
and so our conception of form is merely the picture of form
in the objective world, as it is mirrored in the human mind.

We conclude this exposition of the part which ideal con-
structions play in kenlore by an example. We pin a silken
thread down in two points and move the point of a pencil
at its stretched end. The line resulting from this opera-
tion turns out to be an ellipse and ellipses are the paths
of the planets. We study the nature of ellipses and formu-
late the theorems which we learn from the observation of
our constructions and when we watch the motions of the
planets in the heavens we can by the help of the geometry
of ellipses predetermine the progress and all further posi-
tions of the planets.

It is a strange fact that these constructions made of
ideas of pure form can be so helpful. They serve us as a
key to experience, yea these purely formal thoughts are the
mentality of our mind. They furnish the method by which
sense impressions change into intelligible experience, and
the elements from which they grow, being notions of pure
form, can not be traced in the sense elements of experience.

The data of sense experience furnish particular facts but
not the principle of universality. They are single items, but
not the method according to which they appear as instances
of general types. They are definite events or concrete

584 THE MONIST.

things, not laws, nor norms which would explain why they
happen to be such as they are and what they would be like
if in one way or another conditions were changed. The
latter, laws, principles, methods, are mind -made; the
former, the facts of experience, are nature, and nature is
a play of transformations.

The laws of pure form are mind-made, but mind in its
turn is nature-made. Sentient substance originates and
nature impresses its own character into its fabric. There
is first a sensing of concrete forms, then a recognition of
pure form (that is to say, of form in abstract thought, of
form in and by itself) and finally we have the methodical
construction of systems of pure form.

The interrelations and interactions of feelings, their
formal feature, is what we commonly designate as "mind" ;
and a systematized conception of them is in a word called
"reason." There is no reason, no argumentative faculty
such as is human reason, in nature, but there is a formative
cosmic order determining all the particular facts of objec-
tive existence, and of this cosmic formative order human
reason is an echo. From this norm which dominates the
world and which is reconstructed in our mind we derive
those principles of all our purely formal methods, our prin-
ciples of logic and logical necessity, of universality, of our
fundamental conditions for mathematical thought and geo-
metrical constructions, and here accordingly lies the corner-
stone of kenlore.

EDITOR.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

TRUTH AND NATURE,
i.

Of all the myriad idols which men have shaped them of their
imaginings none stands forth so austere, so august, and so transcen-
dently elusive as truth. We are wont to think of the human mind
as demanding in the objects of its enthusiasms a certain concrete
vividness, sense and emotion wrought upon in unison. And indeed,
when we contemplate the long pageant of by-gone worships, we do
find therein sensuous color and brilliancy: the pantheons of the
nations, the symbols of cult and creed, are the ornate illumination
of the scroll of mental history. Nevertheless, upon reflection, we
perceive clearly that the showy outward appeals are no real clue
to the enthusiasms they arouse. For these appeals are utterly im-
permanent, pantheon giving way to pantheon, symbol to symbol,
with kaleidoscopic ease of mutation ; but the motive which yields
in turn to the sway of each, the zeal and veneration of the religious
spirit, ever remains, unabated and unabashed through all the change.
Surely this motive — able to withstand so oft-repeated overthrow
of its dearest idols — must spring from an instinct deep-wrought in
the human fibre; it must have its source in some perennial pre-
potency of man's disposition and its final reason in the laws of life
and mind — aye, in the very essence of that Nature which has
brought into being life and mind.

And obviously there is, through all the change, a constant
factor. It is a factor without which the development of a super-
brute intelligence must have been forever impossible, for it is the
key and support of the building human mind. This factor is belief
in truth. And I mean not merely belief in the truth of each seeming
revelation as it comes, — not merely sincerity of faith, though this
is an evident corollary. But what humanizes intelligence is belief
in the worth of truth for its own sake ; it is belief in true thinking

586 THE MONIST.

as the only possible mental equipment for successful living; and it
is such belief as is ready at any time to reject a revelation that fails
in the test of experience and to resume a doubting and troubled
search for that fond of verity which, however unattained, will yet
never suffer denial.

The strength of this belief may be estimated from the devotion
inspired by its object. Love of truth is the greatest, as it is the
least conscious, of man's passions. Not only is it displayed in just
and temperate pursuit of knowledge, but often in blind and bloody
defense of errors: for error is simulated truth and is cherished
only because it presents itself in truth's guise; heretic and heretic-
hunter are alike at least in honest zeal, and in our admiration for
the noble courage of a Bruno, preferring death to a stain upon rea-
son, we need not utterly condemn in his opponents the grim deter-
mination that their truth must prevail. "The soul," says Plato,
"has a faculty of loving truth, and of doing all things for the sake
of it.*' In the history of the world it would be difficult to find any
ideal that has profoundly stirred men's minds which has not been
regarded as a special and superior manifestation of truth : Crusades,
Renaissance, Reformation, Enlightenment, each betokens a new and
exalted devotion to belief, and the warring and proselytizing of sects
and creeds, in philosophy, science and art as well as religion, are
but recurrent testimony to the intensity of earnestness with which
men sacrifice and die for their convictions.

Perhaps the extreme type of this devotion is to be found in the
characteristically modern pursuit of knowledge for its own sake,
in that purely intellectual zeal which is the apotheosis of curiosity.
Curiosity is at root a utilitarian affection of mind; for, while it is
easy to be perilously interested, on the whole an inquisitive prying
into environment is the condition of healthy caution and wise adap-
tation. In the primitive stages of human history, where experience is
all concrete and the problems are immediate needs, acquisition of
knowledge is perforce mainly incidental to impulse and appetite.
But a purely speculative interest in the "hang" and "go" of things
is not tardy in developing : Bushmen paintings are more than highly
naturalistic pleasurings of esthetic fancy; they are nature studies
in a true modern sense, the product of a lively impersonal interest
in environment. Now it is just the mastering of the "hang" and
"go" of the world that makes human living so exceptionally effi-
cient; men control nature by finding out her hidden catches and
springs ; to discover general rules is to capitalize experience and live

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 587

on its income, to have reserve funds in time of need. And herein
lies the grounding in the laws of life for the development of such
a mental trait as curiosity and such a function of mind as precise
knowledge.

But the conception of knowledge as a mere instrument, as a
condition of biologic well-being tending to preservation and survival,
is a late achievement of reflection. It is only in its maturity that
reason begins to understand and take into account its own motives
and instincts; — indeed, the very essence of "instinct" is "rational
impulse" with the "rational" element suppressed in consciousness
for the economizing of energy. The instinct of curiosity is no ex-
ception. Hardly yet is it emerged from the impulsive stage, and we
may view that type of mind in which it is at once most impulsive and
most powerfully developed — the scientific mind, the mind eager for
knowledge for the sake of knowledge, — as an extreme specialization
of mental power for the good of the race : it is to this mind that we
owe the profoundly practical and efficient body of knowledge which
is coming more and more to guide sane human endeavor and it is
from this mind that we derive that degree of supremacy over phys-
ical environment which promises to bring mankind to a hale and
hearty age. In its elementary phases curiosity is apt to be intensely
practical ; its concernments are directly at hand ; it answers to near
needs. But in order that mind might attain a truly generalized domin-
ion, in order that the instrument might be rendered efficient beyond the
purview of the individual, so that the system of science should become
a racial possession and benefit, it was necessary that there should
arise in the individual an instinctive desire for knowledge beyond
the scope of apparent utility; theoretic interest had to develop.

Doubtless if we could foresee the whole evolution of our spe-
cies we should discover that this theoretic interest does as a matter
of fact lead to purely practical results, that there is no such thing
as useless science, that with race experience as the test the develop-
ment of knowledge is conditioned by limited and exacting needs.
But it is not nature's way to dissipate energies in her chosen tools:
impulse sufficient to the deed is all that she vouchsafes; and so we
do as a matter of fact find sprung up in the human mind an acute
zeal for knowledge apart from any recognized utility, and correla-
tive with this, in the sense of dignity and possession which knowl-
edge gives, an inner sanction satisfying our emotional natures. The
man of science may permit the popular journals to exploit the
practical benefits of his work (for from showy benefits comes the

588 THE MONIST.

popular willingness to support his researches), but inwardly he feels
a kind of impatience with such appeal ; the utility of his work is felt
to be a degradation of the finer sanction, viz., his sense of dignity
as an unbiased seeker after truth: in his hierarchy the "pure" sci-
ences are immeasurably exalted above the "applied," and he feels
a certain pain when his theoretic investigations result in some prac-
tical good. "And the beauty of it, gentlemen, the beauty of it is
that it is of no possible use to any one!" was the customary ex-
clamation of a certain mathematician in one of our colleges, when,
covered with chalk and beaming with gratification, he emerged from
a successful demonstration.

Such is perhaps the ideal specialization of the scientific disposi-
tion. But it is contrary to nature (and to definition) that any human
being should be an unalloyed scientist: there is always some spark
— one might almost say, some saving grace — of human interest in
his make-up ; a degree of pity is compelled even for Mr. Wells's
humorously grotesque Cavor in his last horror at finding his mind
giving way at the bare spectacle of the insanely sane Selenites, — and
the author does in good sooth show us the reductio ad impossibile
of the scientific mood in his monstrous lunar ants. A development
of this kind is revolting to our every sensibility ; and just because it
is the inevitable logic of our scientific ideal, it enforces upon us a
consciousness of the necessary limitations of that ideal, and its need
for supplementation.

As a rule the supplementation comes in the form of some ulter-
ior interest, standing above the concreteness of scientific problems
and dominating the whole mental life and attitude. Except in the
most intellectual periods of history this interest has been religious —
a reliance upon some superhuman humanity capable of justifying
every devotion to truth. Such is, above all, the attitude of scholasti-
cism, though it is also a general heritage of our mental history.
Science and philosophy, where not consciously practical, are made
ancillary to faith; the justification of the ways of God to man is
the justification of reason ; and a kind of cosmic morality is made the
sufficient ground of being. But in certain periods, the great age of
Athenian philosophy, the Renaissance, and especially the Nineteenth
Century, religion itself has been subjected to the demand for justifi-
cation; and the conception of Truth has been exalted above that of
God or of the Good.

That truth, as a supreme and universal ideal, is capable of in-
spiring men to a veritable fervor of devotion, is the lesson of many

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 589

a biography. There is in its appeal something more than mere
intellectual curiosity; there is a sacrificial zeal as well, and often a
martyr-like resignation of the dearest of human hopes. A certain
abnegation and abasement is characteristic of the modern scientific
attitude; it owns a kind of shame for human yearnings and the
errancy of a desire-driven soul; it humbles itself before the sense
of its own attainment, and seems to derive a melancholy reverence
from its contemplation of the majestic indifference of nature; with
heroic fortitude it strives to quench every rising flicker of merely
human animation, and with stoic pride struggles to convert the mind
into an impassive recorder of outward being. Its faith is the most
unselfish in the world — or, if it have any match, the cry of Job,
"Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him," is its sole parallel.

But the unique and wonderful feature of this devotion is not
so much its abnegation of human passion as the tremendous abstract-
ness of its object. What ordinarily moves men's love or reverence
is the concrete appeal of material beauty or moral grandeur. Truth,
as an ideal, by its nature, of course, possesses neither of these; and
although, in most systems of thought, beauty and goodness are made
truth's predicates, this is but concession to the humanness of the
systems' framers; indeed, it may almost be said that the difficulties
of philosophy are but the inherent contradictoriness of this trini-
tarian dogma of the unity of the true, the good and the beautiful.
By itself truth lacks moral and esthetic appeal ; and, summing in
itself all real and possible knowledge, it lacks, too, any concrete
interest. It is, to be sure, derived from a vast number of concrete
interests, and undoubtedly the fact that it holds these interests in im-
plicit reference is what gives it its stable hold on men. But these
implied interests do not in the least explain the emotional hold of
the general conception: their nature, taken severally, is as practical
or theoretical problems, deriving whatever penumbrae of emotion
they may possess from appetitive need or the instinct of curiosity ;
and there is no incentive to martyrdom in all this. Even if the
nature of the universe be the implied content of truth — as for the
enlightened mirid it is — there is yet no explanation of the emotional
hold of the abstract idea. Men undoubtedly are stirred in imagination
by their inner spectacle of the evolving world, but this is obviously
an esthetic stimulation ; and in any case it cannot account for the
sharp summoning of the great idea of which it is but an incidental
exposition. For the real cause of devotion to truth and its real

59° THE MONIST.

rationale in human nature, we must inquire beyond any mere play
of feeling and imagery.

The degree of abstractness wherein the conception of truth is
still capable of inspiring devotion, and at the same time the clue to
the reason for this devotion, are indicated in the celebrated passage
of the Phsedrus, where, in the one phrase, Plato describes truth as
"colorless, formless, intangible," and yet as "the steersman of the
soul." Truth is the "steersman of the soul"; truth is a guide, a
director, a .ruler of life ; truth is the giver of human freedom and a
creator of human destinies ; truth is at once the expression of man's
achievement, and the agent of his efficiency.

It is the tremendous role which the thinking of truths has
played in the creation of man's humanity, the liberation of psychical
life from its lock-step dependence upon the whip and spur of ever-
varying sensation, it is this deed which has inwrought in man's
mind his instinctive veneration for the ideal of knowledge. Truth
is the steersman of the soul, and in a very near sense; for the body
of our knowledge is the chart whereby we direct the course of life,
and so determine the soul's development.

The emergence of a human from the multitude of brute species
is the most wonderful fact of biological history; and the wonder
of it lies almost solely in the appearance of that power of thought,
the power of forming generalizations, general conceptions, which is
distinctive of man. Man's humanness rests its case on the fact of
his human mind. What is above all peculiar to that mind is its
foresight ; its faculty of abstracting the fixed and constant elements
from the general evanescence of experience, and, by service of such
abstractions, its power to predict the future. Prediction, foresight,
enables preparation, preparation makes possible the realization of
ideals.

To be sure in the lower animals, nature to a degree makes good
the lack of rational foresight. Instinct is her agency, and in general
we may say that, in the long development of mind, consciousness
acquires stability and efficiency in two modes or forms, instinct and
conception. Both of these come as generalizations of race experi-
ence, enforced and ingrained by the harsh contacts of unyielding
environments, and both are means of surmounting the transiency of
the moment-to-moment life. Instinct is the more primitive and es-
sential. It is also the more narrow, condensed and specialized.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

Bound close to the preservative and perpetuative activities, and so
restricted by the peculiar forms and needs of the organism, it lacks
adaptability and elasticity. Nevertheless, it represents a vast ad-
vance over the fickleness of consciousness confined to fleeting sen-
sation and whim. An instinct is a kind of universal ; it is a sign of
a recurrent experience, its relative simplicity representing the multi-
tude of details which the repetitions embrace. It is a race generali-
zation, fixed only after myriad efforts and at a cost of myriad fail-
ures, and already it reveals glimmerings of prevision: the honey-
maker stakes present toil for future joyance, the sentinel of the
herd exchanges present gratification for future safety.

Instinct, then, evinces two of the characteristics of conception,
universality and prevision. But it lacks the characteristic which
must be added to make reason possible, mobility, the power to form
varied and new combinations to suit varied and new situations. It
lacks, in short, the power to represent the novel and to create the
ideal. It is anchored so snugly to the concrete case that abstraction
is impossible, and without abstraction there can be no freedom, no
ideality.

Thus, the hugeness of the gap separating man as the reasoning
animal from the rest of brute creation is warranted by the nature of
reason itself ; for between instinct and reason is all the difference
between blindness and seeing, between servile subjection to ephem-
eral events and spiritual freedom in the realm of ideas. It is the
nature of conception to represent to the mind that which is not pres-
ent in sense; it is the nature of reason to combine conceptions to
likenesses and uses not yet realized in experience. In this nature
of reason is founded human freedom, — first realized in that mastery
over nature which has enabled man to conquer the antagonisms of
physical circumstance and adapt, not himself to environment, but
environment to his own need and profit, so that he, alone of animals,
is immutably himself in whatever zone or clime.

But of vastly more consequence than this physical mastery, is
the spiritual independence which reason wins for him. The sole
instrument and enablement of reason is the conception or idea. Real-
ity is fixed in the matrix of time, forming an unalterably concrete
series of haps and events no one of which may beg or borrow added
period ; gone, each is gone forever. But it is not so with ideas. It
is their character and essence to bridge and conquer time. Their
truth is the experience of yesterday and the prophecy of to-morrow.
They serve, indeed, to create yesterday and to-morrow, for it is by

592 THE MONIST.

dint of ideas alone that the reach of life is expanded beyond the
mere immediacy of appetitive existence. Abstracting from the pass-
ing flow of events what is typically and reiterantly significant, they
lock these significances together in the form of universals, which are
the counters of intellectual life and the foundation of all intelligent
experience. Valid yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, universal ideas
form the truth, — the talisman opening the portals of all knowledge
and giving consistency and worth to all enduring personality. Nor
has the human mind been dull to their meaning, but from the very
first it has beheld in them its divinities.

in.

The human mind has evolved. It has not sprung in fullness of
strength and glory from the being of creative nature. Only through
long generations, the long years of man's history and the vastly
longer ages of his prehistory, has it gradually and painfully come to
its own. The motive of this evolution is significant of the final
meaning of intelligence. As we survey the mind's growth, we see
that the process has been one of slow breaking away from the thrall-
dom of sense.

To think — to form abstractions, to classify facts, to organize
knowledge — is no light or easy achievement. The animal mind,
even at its highest, in the apes, we believe to be absolutely dependent
upon the sensations and perceptions of the moment. There may be
animals capable of a very dim foresight, but at the best their reach
of thought cannot extend beyond -a few hours' duration, and the
content of their thought can never transcend the particular. It is the
perception or feeling of the moment, in all its concrete vividness,
that absorbs consciousness ; the present hunger or the present grate-
ful satiety, the present bodily zest or the present drowsiness, these
are meter and guide of the conscious life.

Now the primitive human mind — at its lowest — is advanced far
beyond this stage. There are no men incapable of thinking the lapse
of days and nights with the concurrent duration of things — no men,
perhaps incapable of thinking time in those greater measures set by
the phases of the moon or the annual recurrence of the seasons. And
these standards, be it noted, are objective; they are no mere appe-
titive change, but observed alternations in nature. Further, they are
observed as recurrences — the terms day, night, moon, winter, mean
not merely the experience of light and hunger of this day, the gloom
and drowsiness of this night, the waning of this moon, the dolor of

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 593

this season of snow, but they mean the constantly repeated like ex-
periences in a man's life, days and winters past and to be. In other
words, they are terms expressive of generalizations ; they are terms
by means of which man universalizes his knowledge ; they are mental
signs of truths of experience.

The progress of the human mind in its slow emancipation from
the domination of sense is conspicuously shown in the emergence,
in the history of thought, of the great principles of reason. At the
very basis of nature's intelligibility lies the principle known to logic
as the principle of identity. On this is based all our classificatory
science, all our generalizations, all our abstract thinking, in fact all
of that system which we interject into reality by means of language ;
for every word, every name, denotes some special aspect of nature,
which is subject to repetition. It is because two things or events
are alike that we are able to designate them by the one word. Simi-
larities, likenesses, are the keys to our intellectual mastery of what
Kant calls the "blind play," the "rhapsody," of undifferentiated sen-
sation.

Now similarity or likeness is purely an ideal relation. It per-
tains to an apprehending mind, not to the bare fact of reality. Simi-
larity implies an act of comparison, a measurement of one thing
against another ; an act which can be function of mind only. There
are no likenesses in nature; likeness is not a quality of a thing or
things, but a relation, established by mind, between things. And
recognition of likenesses, identities, is the first great step to the
conceptual mastery of nature. It is the beginning of the formation
of that map, that mental diagram or scheme of things, which consti-
tutes our notion of the world, and so constitutes our ideal of truth.

What it cost the human mind to attain this power of generali-
zation through observation of similarities, is impressively shown by
the long and painful mental effort through which freedom in the
world of ideas has been won. Through many, many generations,
through many, many centuries, man thought, as most men still
think, only in concrete images. Myth, fable, allegory, were the
normal and necessary vehicles of abstract ideas. * A new abstraction
formed, wrought as on an anvil in the white heat of experience,
glowed with the hue and flare of embodied life, and so was heralded
to the mind as a new deity in its great pantheon of ideas. The
count of every primitive religion reveals its quota of hypostatized
ideas : the Hindu Dharma, the divine Law, comparable to the Logos
of Greek and Christian thought ; the Greek Charis, Themis, Nemesis;

594 -2/;Oi THE MONIST. H3

the Roman J.ustitia, Fides, Bellona ; the Norse Frith and Blith. Most
of these originated as attributes of some more primitive deity — a
nature deity, as these are deities of society — the attribute being first
personified as a special incarnation of this deity, and then, thanks
to the mental clutch which personification gives, thrown off as inde-
pendent members of the divine council. Thus Zeus is father of
Dike, Justice ; Athena Nikcphoros, the bearer of victory, is trans-
formed into Nike, the Winged Victory herself. <d <->fI)

But the nature gods themselves illustrate the same development.
They merely belong to an earlier stratum of abstractive thought.
Zeus is the shining heavens, summarizing the light and orderliness
of the.. world above; Demeter is the earth beneath, and Kore, her
daughter, is the symbol of the vegetation of recurring years. These
gods are abstractions of man's experience of elemental nature, forged
as it were, by nature herself in his growing mind, to enable him to
overleap the narrow boundaries of the moment and master days and
seasons to come, i>m; lu ".vbo^.qiiih" vrf.t .vfifq brr/!<

It is many generations beyond the mythic stage of thought — a
stage we have not yet wholly outgrown — that the thinkers of our
race begin to realize the true meaning of abstract thinking: how it
is the functional rather than the material element that is significant
for human life ; that truth is measured by the mastery of natural
destiny which truth yieldsjn '<••

bn/The primitive organization of nature under mythic forms gives
place to the conception of a universe governed by law and order.
But what is this law and order? In reality, it is only a new mythol-
ogy, a new truth. It serves our purpose better than the old ; its basis
is a; greater range and duration of human experience. But its basis
is nevertheless nought but human experience, and human experience
taken in its unreal, in its ideal, intention. Scientific law is scientific
truth. This is not to say that it is fact. It is a certain statement
of fact,— fact generalized. It has correspondence with fact. But the
correspondence is relative to signification, to the respect in which the
facts are considered, hence to human intelligence and purpose.
noiiLet us briefly consider this relationship of truth and fact.

We cannot ask of a fact if it be true, when we mean by "fact"
the actual flow of phenomena in world history ; a fact cannot be
other than status or locus in the general course of events; fact is
reality itself ; and it would be meaningless to speak of reality as true
or false. But ideas symbolize facts, and according as that symbolism
is efficient or inefficient, we term them true or false. To be sure,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 595

ideas may exist as psychical events without being either true or false ;
they may be neutral so long as they are not predicated of anything ;
but this is considering them apart from a thinking process, and it
is doubtful if any idea is ever entertained apart from some possible
judgment. And the faintest suggestion of use in judgment is a
degree of truth-error already entered into the idea. An idea which
is a possibility is tinged with truth; it points to some reality of
which it is the truth and it begins to shape itself to the system or
context in which that reality is conceived. ; :-i;

fnoi Manifestly, the only employment of ideas is as truth or false-
hood ; they are suggested predicates or they are mental lumber. But
this is not saying that there is but one species of truth or falsehood
open to them. As a matter of fact, there are myriad such ; as many
as we have worlds abuilding, — and the ordinary mind has a consid-
erable number of these worlds, each formed of a group of concepts
united by some center of interest, to some particular purpose, — and
each, at least ostensibly, unrelated to its mates. Thus, we have the
world of reality in numerous fairly disjunct aspects: as a world of
every-day contacts, the limited one-man reality ; as a world of social
ideals, the communal world; as a world of beauty and ugliness; as
a world of philosophical or scientific speculation, a cosmos; and we
have besides as many fictive or romantic worlds as there are fictions
or romances. The same ideas are judged true or false in these
various worlds only in analogous senses ; and as each world has its
own governing conception, ideas enter in or are rejected in utterly
different proportion. In each case the candidate for truth-positing
is tested for its ability to fit into and bind together the general system
of which it is to form a part, and while it necessarily modifies the con-
ceptual whole to some extent, it is itself reacted upon by the sheers
and strains of the total structure.

The scientific world of law and order no less than the mythic
world of the wills of the gods is thus a creation of a point of view ;
it is a regard in which things are considered. As a system it stands
out against nature, as a sort of key to nature ; and it is by no means,
as we are too wont to think, embodied in the being of reality. There
is a great fission between thought and things, the one having its
order in a hierarchy of ideal relationships, the other in the historic
flow of events known to us only in sense-perception.

Jsrb nifiJ '• ir.liv.

.,rd Perhaps I can bring home this ideal and relative character of
scientific truth by illustration. .fmfim nn /<! rf^r»<>f!j ,//;;!

59^ THE MONIST.

An interesting instance of that broadening of human powers of
conception which I have been stating, centers about the notion of
ether. The idea of ether doubtless originates with the mythic con-
ception of the blue sky as the abode or embodiment of divinity, —
"Zeus is Aether," says ^Eschylus. And thence it passed into science
through Aristotle's notion of it as the substance of the higher em-
pyrean, the realm of stars.

But its significance for modern physics dates mainly from the
objection of Leibnitz to Newton's theory of gravitation, that action
at a distance is impossible and inconceivable. To meet the objection,
ether, or an etheric fluid, was postulated as a medium for action
by contact, that is, as a medium for the conveyance of gravitational
forces. To-day the reverse of Leibnitz's view is the more tenable.
Lotze has shown that action by contact is, if anything, less conceiv-
able than action at a distance, and indeed action at a distance is
essential to the conception of force itself, and of gravitation. For
gravitation is nothing more than the expression of a relation between
two bodies separated in space. Simply stated, it is the rule that the
acceleration of each of the bodies is proportional to the mass of the
other, while the attractive force or tendency is inversely as the square
of the distance. The word "force," as applied to gravitation, means
only a tendency to motion of a certain sort under certain conditions ;
and it is affirmed that this is universal. But under certain ideal con-
ditions it could not be universal. For the force of gravitation is
purely an attractive force, that is it is a tendency of motion of bodies
toward one another. Now if it be conceived that this force is the only
one in existence and further that it is operative only in the particles
(mere centers of this force) composing the earth, then there would
be one irresistible and ever accelerating tendency of all these par-
ticles toward the earth's center of gravity, involving the ultimate
shrinking of the globe to a mere punctual nothingness. The same
mishap would occur, under like supposition, to a finite universe.

Of course such a reductio ad absurdum of gravitation is too
far from the facts of reality to be more than idle speculation ; there
are repulsions as well as attractions to be taken into account; but
at least it serves to emphasize the fact that human theories are built
upon too narrow a range of phenomena, hold true of too limited a
sphere of reality, to serve as a foundation for the prediction of cos-
mic destinies. Even in our own solar system it is not certain that
gravitational attraction does not exceed the ratio expressed by the
law, though by an infinitesimal fraction, as the sun is neared.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 597

In emphasizing the limitation of scientific theory, scientific
achievement is in no wise being brought into question. What is
essential to be understood is that scientific thought is to-day in rapid
evolution and that scientific knowledge is at best only an account
of restricted fields of reality. A generation ago Mill held that the
whole inquiry of natural science is for causes of phenomena ; to-day
physicists assert that the notion of cause has no place in their science
at least. Time, space, mass are the categories under which physical
phenomena may be conceived. Is it for a moment to be supposed
that these can give an adequate account of this rich and varied world
in which we dwell ? The whole region of growth, vitality, conscious-
ness, the visible, tangible, audible dimensions of creation, are yet
to be taken into account.

For a quarter of a century philosophers have been examining
and analyzing scientific conceptions with an assiduousness and inter-
est proportional to the immense significance of their metaphysical
bearings. The result of this investigation has been singularly unan-
imous. The body of scientific law is conceded to be a powerful
instrument of knowledge, a veritable calculus of reality, but in no
sense a photographic reproduction of reality ; it is a mnemonic device
for the assemblage of facts useful or calculable ; it is not a narrative
of creation. In consequence of this view, materialism, — the concep-
tion of the universe as an atomistic machine, — has been utterly dis-
carded. It answers not the least demands of reason, accounts not
for the most potent facts. In its place, idealism, in some form or
other, holds general sway; and it is safe to assert that the doctrine
of evolution with its attendant theories, has served no end more
certainly than that of compelling the philosophic conclusion that
purposive intelligence is the chief fact, the Leitmotiv of the universe.

Of course the philosopher, too, frames his opinion upon the
meager basis of human experience. There is a temerity periling
effrontery in any effort to infer the whence and whither of the
cosmos from a span of experience at its utmost covering less than
ten thousand recorded years, and in its free intelligence only a frac-
tion of that time. But the philosopher at least has in his favor that
he judges in accordance with instincts to which nature has indubi-
tably given rise; he recognizes and considers those human values
which for us are alone significant.

Protagoras began his treatise on truth, "Man is the measure of
all things." The history of the growth of knowledge since his day

598 THE MONIST.

only emphasizes the certainty of this aphorism. Our measure of
the world is human science, and the measure of science is human
intelligence, — in last resort the power of imagination. For imagi-
nation is not alone the solace of life; it is also, and above all else,
the faculty which has lifted man above the time-serving- brute,
making possible his insight into the natural history of what lies
behind the screen of sensation. Imagination is the power whereby
we discover truth; it is the instrument by means of which we rear
the wonderful structure of human knowledge, our parable of reality.
Its potency measures possible science ; its flexibility determines men-
tal evolution. According to Herbert Spencer, conceivability, or as
he puts it, the inconceivableness of the negative, is our final criterion
of truth. Upon the mind's power to abstract and relate phenomena
science is dependent, and with this power science is limited. John
Stuart Mill, in comment, pointed out that human power of conception
is not a static thing, that it expands from generation to generation, —
the antipodes, inconceivable in the fifteenth century, are accepted as
commonplace in the sixteenth, — and by reason of this expansion,
continually broadens the mind's horizon, continually throws back the
borderline of possibility. On the one hand is human impotence, the
mind's abashment in the presence of the unknown, but on the other
there is an energy of growth ever straining the leash of mortal cir-
cumstance. '!->od 2Bfi — .antrfosfn otjp.im* r/im; adJ \o noil

"Man is the measure of all things." But man's is a changing,
a growing nature. Ever he seeks to project this nature out into the
cosmos which environs him, and ever he finds the cosmos growing
with his own inner growth. The system of the sciences is continually
enlarging and must continue to enlarge so long as there is growth
of intelligence. The system of the sciences is our truth. And this
is, of course, to say that truth is ever changing, ever growing.
Truth is relative to human insight. It is nothing fixed in the being
of the world of fact ; it is only that ideal of this world which mind
has found useful to mind's purpose.

And from this point of view we are warranted in criticising the
conception of nature which commonly goes under the name of mate-
rialism or of mechanism,- — the view, often called the scientific view of
things, which asserts that our earth and our solar system are but
a phase in the evolution of some primordial cloud of star dust, due in
the tale of the ages to become star dust once again. From nebulae
worlds are generated to be resolved once more to nebulae after
running their course. Man's life is but an incident of this cosmic

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 59Q

process, it is meaninglessly generated to be as meaninglessly snuffed
out ; and the sole role of human intelligence is to evolve a knowledge
of the uselessness and hopelessness of human life, while the acme
of human dignity lies in the attainment of a sort of melancholy
satisfaction in reviewing the grim spectacle of the cosmic scons.

It has ever been the cue of those who see in the cosmos a colos-
sal machine grinding slow fatalities, to bid man to realization of his
own weak, paltry, and precarious being; he is summoned to con-
sider himself the helpless factotum of vain and foolish destinies in
whose whim he must humbly acquiesce. This is but a new species
of anthropomorphism, — man worshiping the shadow of his blinder
self; for the conception thus raised up as the august antipode of
human frailty is still a creation of the human mind, a part of the
proper furniture of that conscious being which is summoned to
abashment.

The conception of the life of the universe as consisting of cycles
of blind evolutions followed by blind destructions is not a new con-
ception. It is older than the despair of Buddha, and if in no just
sense ascribable to Heraclitus, it is not to be distinguished from the
conception which lay at the basis of the ascetic abnegation of the
Stoics or that which issued in Proclus's ghastly theory of world
degeneration. It may be that the conception is true. But the "may
be," let it be understood, is merely an acknowledgment of human
fallibility. It means only that our finite knowledge is incapable of
conclusively gainsaying any possibility; it does not mean that the
theory itself is, humanly speaking, probable or plausible.

For we must remember our premises. Truth is not the gist of
reality, but our scheme of it, measured by our intelligence; and our
nature and intelligence is ever-growing. If we know anything in
this world it is the fact of growth — the fact of ever-receding limits
to knowledge — the fact of never-ending imaginative conquests.
Growth of mind is growth of imagination ; growth of imagination
is continuation of our mental conquest and absorption of nature.
There is no ultimate or absolute truth so long as life is, nor is any
final pronouncement of man's destiny possible so long as man is
engaged in making his place in the world.

It is not unnatural, then, if we feel a certain grotesqueness in
the contention of those whose business it is to be seers of truth,
that, with the bourne of their imaginations reached, the fullness of
human knowledge is in sight. To be sure, we concede a limit at
which each individual imagination must balk further progress; but

6OO THE MONIST.

that limit attained, it is not the part of an oft-vaunted scientific
humility to challenge future insight. It is as were the imagination
to come saying: "I am old. I am weak and worn. I can see no
more. But I have conceived and brought forth my thought, the
satiate truth. Beyond there is nothing."

It is little wonder that such a view should have led, through
the contrariety of despair, to Nietzsche's barbaric laudation of man
as the "great blond beast" overriding natural destinies. But it is
wonder that it could ever so appeal to human rationality as to blind
men to the evidences of intelligence in the world. Our own reason
is an instance of this intelligence, and we are at least parcel of
nature. Nor is there any contradiction of science in making, — nor
any warrant of science which opposes, — the assertion of higher in-
telligence than ours in the universe, battling, with us, against night
and chaos.

Furthermore, even in the mechanistic view of nature, there is
an invariable, if often unwitting, insistence upon the human factor —
the man-value of truth. In itself mechanism is the most monstrous
of idolatries. It outrages every sentiment of the soul, every principle
of the reason (though this is not saying that it may yet not be fact ; if
the world be chaos, reason is chaotic with the rest). In order to re-
deem it, the mechanist seeks to furbish it up with some aspect of
human significance. The best of his conception is a sort of Over-
man,— one who has extinguished all the warmth of human feeling and
desire, and in place of a destiny answering man's natural needs has
set the chill ideal of impassive Intellect. But this, too, is human.
Man after all is the measure ; he alone is the unit of worth — he, the
weak sport and victim of the colossal nightmare! If there are
meanings, they are meanings for the human soul ; if there are truths,
they are truths of human destiny ; if any value is, it is the creation
of human experience. The intellectual value that is recognized is
a product of dissection and mutilation — self-dissection, self-mutila-
tion— but it is none the less part and parcel of man's being. The
naive openness of the confession shows the faith of the mechanist
the more appalling. One sees him precarious on the verge of reali-
zation; one trembles for the revelation that may shatter his trust.
Helpless in the coils of his belief, already he begins to feel dimly
the horror of it, the horror he has never dared to front, face to face.
With the desperate old instincts of his soul he clutches still the
humanhood for which his creed has no place, attesting still the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 6oi

supreme worth of that spirit his philosophy must deny. Man, though
mere mortality, about to die, he salutes.

VI.

Perhaps the wisest of the ancient sayings concerning truth is
Plutarch's, "Truth is a striving after divinity." In what has pre-
ceded I have endeavored to show that truth belongs to the world of
ideas and ideal relations — of human ideas, human thought.

But there is another world of Ideas — Plato's world of divine
Ideas, the model and archetype of the visible universe. Human
ideas, according to Plato, and human works, and indeed all the
works of visible nature, are but imitations of these divine arche-
types. They are but expressions of that dumb striving of all im-
perfect being after perfect being which Plato found to be motive
alike of the history of mankind and the history of changing nature.

Nowadays we give Plato's thought a new interpretation. In
the light of the doctrine of evolution we are once again brought
face to face with a scheme of nature the motive of which is the
striving of an imperfect after a perfect being. Through the long
ages of geologic time we see species and genera and orders of life,
at first embryonic in form, affording only a faint premonition of their
eventual type, proceeding by devious and laborious paths to this
type's realization. A striking example of this is shown in the de-
velopment of that one of the orders of the mollusk class — the Cepha-
lopoda, now only represented by the "many-chambered nautilus."
Beginning far back in paleozoic times with genera of the type of the
Orthoceras, preserved to us in the form of simple conical shells
compartmentally divided, this branch developed through the ages;
first, slightly curved forms; and then the more and more tightly
coiled varieties with ever-increasing complexity of structure, which
culminates in the Ammonites — coil contiguous upon coil. It was
as if, through all those millions of years, nature had held before
herself this ideal of beauty, to be consummated only through infinite
experiment, infinite endeavor, infinite striving. Thus the wonder of
the Ammonite is a part of the meaning of the Orthoceras, though
the realization of this meaning was to be bought at a price of aeons.
So it is with every natural type. It is contained implicitly in its
dim precursors, but only the long years can bring nature's thought
to the surface.

Does not this mean intelligence, reason, plan in the universe?
A truth like our truth in being ideal, in existing for the future toward

602 THE MONIST.

which like ours, it is ever reaching out ? It means this, or our own
truth is illusion.

And the human mind, — the human mind is itself a product of
this striving growth. It is itself a part of the divine plan contained
in that world of ideas, which forecasts evolutions. We as human
animals are creatures of this creative nature.

Only — and here is the great fact — the end of our development
is not its material form. Nature has not exhausted her gift to man
in the creation of his body ,— his physical ^vital history. She has given
him mind. And it is the great function of mind to win for us free-
dom from the flux and flow of merely physical destinies. In attain-
ing the ideal the mind becomes emancipated from the perishable
world of things ; it wins its freedom, as Spinoza puts it, in the world
of ideas. Truth, then — our human truth, relative, mutable, ever im-
perfect, ever-growing, — is the means and symbol of the deliverance
of the soul from merely mortal destinies. It is not for what truth
pictures to us— the world idea it generates from generation to genera-
tion— that it has meaning, but for what truth does for us, that free-
ing of the spirit which can come only with ideals that lift us above
the chance and circumstance of material time. "Truth is a striving
after divinity" — that divinity which from the first man has found
only in the world of his ideate."'

ilqrrtBx HARTLEY B. ALEXANDER.

-£rfq-/UNlVERSITY OF NEBRASKA. atsblO

".gwlbtffift bs>T3dniKf(o--(n£rn" yrlJ yd boJtrwnq'n vlrro v/orr ,c! •
'jrfJ lo <x}x;J arfJ to Bitmap rfoiw Rsnib oioxoolsq ni ibsd IR) ^ntnni^oH
?[torfa Ifi'jinoD alqnriaPRAGMATIC REALISM. jiq ,>jrm

-^eWW&erTa'' great deal of confusion in regard to terms
in recent discussion. It may be well, therefore, to define, at the
outset, what we mean by realism. A number of writers have called
themselves realists and proposed to champion realism, when they
are really indistinguishable from idealists. Here, at least, the Leib-
nitzian law of indiscernibles ought to hold. If the terms realism
and idealism are retained at all, they ought to stand for different
concepts. It is hard to see how theories which strive to express
reality in terms of a series of perspicuous or translucent states of
consciousness can be called realism. This would surely make the
shade of Berkeley wince. Leaving out all reference to the meta-
physical stuff for the time being, realism means the reference to an
object existing beyond the apperceptive unity of momentary indi-
vidual consciousness, and that this object can make a difference to

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 603

that consciousness so as to be known. The object, in other words,
is dependent upon the cognitive moment not for its existence, but for
its significance. Idealism, on the other hand, would hold that there
is strictly only one unity of consciousness and that existence is a
function of being part of a significant system. Thought is so wedded
to things that things cannot exist without being thought. This as-
sumption on the part of idealism may be veiled under various terms,
such as appearance and reality, the finite and the infinite, the in-
complete purpose and the completely fulfilled purpose ; but in the
various forms of expression the assumption remains that all the facts
are ultimately and really strung on one unity of thought.

To avoid uncanny metaphysical associations it may be well to
point out that realism is an epistemological attitude and has to do
with the relation of the cognitive meaning to its object. As regards
stuff it may be materialistic, spiritualistic or dualistic, though to-day
it is more likely to be spiritualistic. As regards connection it may
hold the mechanical interpretation as regards the relation of parts ;
or it may hold the teleological point of view; or partly one, partly
the other, which is the position common sense realism takes. As
regards the numerical distinctness of the universe, it may be monis-
tic, holding the universe to be one individual with only apparent
diversity in space and time ; or it may be frankly pluralistic, holding
to the numerical diversity and distinctness of individuals. As real-
ism, therefore, is pledged to no brand of metaphysics, no odium
need attach to it so far as metaphysics is concerned.

Realism, as I understand it, does not assume that there can
exist isolated or independent individuals of such a kind as to make
no difference to other individuals. No individual has any prop-
erties, chemical any more than psychological, by itself. Qualities
are reactions or expectancies within determinate contexts. An iso-
lated individual cannot even be zero, as zero must be part of a log-
ical context at least. The hypothesis of independent reals is founded
either on contradictory or on purely hypothetical conditions. Kant's
things by themselves are instances of the latter kind. These cannot
exist for experience or in relation to things as known. Yet they are
supposed to be possible for an intuition entirely different from ours.
Leibnitz has recourse in the last analysis to an emanation theory
and preestablished harmony, which contradict his assumed inde-
pendence. Cognitively independent his monads could not be in any
case, since by implication they are aware of each other.

Realism does not deny that objects to be known must make a

604 THE MONIST.

difference to reflective experience; that they must be capable of
being taken in a cognitive context. To deny this, within the universe
of truth, would be self-contradictory. What realism insists is that
objects can also exist and must exist in a context of their own,
whether past or present — independent of the cognitive subject; that
they can make differences within non-cognitive contexts, independent
of the cognitive experience, which the latter a posteriori must take
account of. Thus the wood in the grate burns, even though we are
not taking account of it ; the seed grows when we are asleep, through
properties involved in its chemical context. Even our own meanings
grow without our being reflectively aware of their change.

As our own cognitive meanings are necessarily finite and any
other type of knowing is necessarily hypothetical, it is difficult to
see how any theory of knowledge can avoid being realistic. Ab-
solute idealism, with its hypothetical unity; and mysticism, with its
ineffable noetic intoxication, still must admit that the finite meaning,
in striving for its completion, implies an object beyond its internal
intent. To deny this is to fall into solipsism or to confuse oneself
with the absolute. The complete absolute meaning cannot be said
to depend for its existence upon our finite fragmentary insight.
And it is with that finite intent that our problem of knowledge is
concerned.

In order to clear the way for realism, we must get rid of some
fundamental fallacies which permeate most of our past philosophic
thought. One of these fallacies may be stated as the assumption
that only like can make a difference to like, or that cause and effect
must be identical. This has been assumed as an axiom by idealism
and materialism alike. For idealism and materialism are alike in-
discriminative. Their method is dogmatic rather than critical. The
only difference is in the stuff with which they start. Idealism, start-
ing with meaning stuff, tries to express the whole universe in terms
of this. Materialism, starting with mechanical stuff — stuff indiffer-
ent to meaning and value — must be consistent, or as consistent as
it can, in expressing the universe in terms of this. Both buy sim-
plicity at the expense of facts.

The problem is the old one of Empedocles : Can only like make
a difference to like? "For it is with earth that we see Earth, and
water with Water, by air we see bright Air, by fire destroying Fire.
By love do we see Love, and Hate by grievous hate." Expressed
in terms of modern idealism, from the side of individual conscious-
ness, the problem would read: Can only experience make a differ-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 605

ence to experience ; can only thought make a difference to thought ?
The absolute idealist attempts this disjunction: The reality which
we strive to know must either be part of one context with our own
finite meaning, must be included within the completed purpose, the
absolute experience, of which we are even now conscious, as well
as of our finitude and fragmentariness ; or, on the other hand, the
real object must be independent of our thought reference, must
exist wholly outside our cognitive context, without being capable of
making any difference to it. But complete independence is mean-
ingless ; therefore there must be one inclusive experience. To think
an object is to think it as experienced, therefore it must be experience.

The issue at this point between the realist and the idealist is a
twofold one. The realist insists that there can be different universes
of experience which can make a difference to each other; and also
that what is non-reflective or non-meaning can make a difference
to our reflective purposes, or vice versa. We can reflect upon a
stone ; that makes the stone experience for us. But does it also make
the stone as such experience? It is as reasonable, at any rate, to
say that only water can know water, and that therefore in order to
know water we must have water in the eye or in the brain, as it is
to say that in order to know the stone or to reflect upon the stone,
the stone must be reflective. In either case our attitude is merely
dogmatic. That objects in order to be known must be capable of
being taken again in the context of cognitive experience is. of course,
a truism. But that does not prove that they cannot exist without
being known or that they must be experience in order to be known.

Science has been forced to abandon the axiom that only like
can act upon like. It is busy remaking its mechanical models in order
to meet the complexity of its world. Chemical energy need not be
the same as electrical or nervous energy to make a difference to
either. Chemical energy implies weight and mass, while electrical
or nervous energy does not. The old metaphysical difficulty in re-
gard to conscious and physical energy has given way to a question
of fact. The question is not, Can they make a difference to each
other? but, Is there evidence of their making any difference to each
other? A cup of coffee or a good beefsteak makes a difference to
thinking. But that does not necessarily make them thought stuff.
Whether cause and effect are identical, either in kind or in time, is
something for empirical investigation to determine, and not to be
settled a priori. Science presents strong evidence that they need
be neither. The light rays may have traveled through space many

606 2MO) THE MONIST. )JTIHO

years before they make the difference of light sensations in connec-
tion with our psychophysical organisnuqmotJE

,r//, It is time that philosophy, too, were abandoning dogmatism in
favor of facts. It is no longer a question of materialism or idealism ;
but we must use idealistic tools where we are dealing with idealistic
stuff and mechanical categories where the evidence for conscious-
ness and value is lacking. We must learn to respect ends where
there are ends ; and to use as means those facts which have no mean-
ing of their own. To fail thus to* discriminate is to be a sentimen-
talist, on the one hand, or a bore, on the other. What we want is
a grain of sanity, even the size of a mustard seed.

B ?!The merit of idealism, and for this we ought to give it due
credit, is that it has shown that the universe must be differentiated
with reference to our purposive attitudes. This is true whether the
reality to be known is purposive or not. Where idealism has been
strong is in interpreting institutional life. In order adequately to
know another meaning, we must copy or share that meaning. This
is true whenever our reality is thought stuff. Idealism, on the
other hand, has always been weak in dealing with nature, and,
therefore, in furnishing the proper setting for natural science.
Idealism has striven to institutionalize nature or to reduce nature
to reflective experience. In order to do this, it has been forced
either to insist upon the phenomenality of nature, with Berkeley
and Green, or to take the ground of Hegel, John Caird, and Royce,
that nature is essentially thought, social experience, the objectifica-
tion of logical categories, though an sich and not fur sich, i. e., as
lived over by reflective experience. Hence nature becomes capable
of system ; it is essentially systematic. In thus apotheosizing the
unity of apperception into an objective unity of nature, idealism has
failed to discriminate. The stone and Hamlet are lumped together.
But we cannot acknowledge or react on nature as reflective or as
experience on its own account, and therefore idealism breaks down.
We make the conceptual system of nature, as social minds, to antici-
pate the future and to satisfy our needs. The meaning of the en-
ergy that satisfies and of the transformations by which it satisfies
is furnished by our subjective context. Water satisfies thirst. That
is an extra-subjective energetic relation. But the why must be fur-
nished by our imperfect context of scientific experience. Our knowl-
edge of nature, we must confess, is partial and selective. Not com-
pleteness, but control, is what we must aim at. Knowledge is good
here when it works. It does not exhaust the manifoldness of nature.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 607

Materialism has been quite right in applying the mechanical
categories to part of reality. The mechanical ideals will always
find favor in natural science, where the aim is not the understanding
of an objective meaning, but control of nature for our purposes.
Where the materialist shows his dogmatism is in applying categories
which are convenient in dealing with the non-purposive structure
of the world to institutional reality as well. In failing to make
them work here, instead of calling into play new categories, he in-
sists upon eliminating the refractory world of meaning and value,
while the idealist, with his eye primarily on the world of social
tissue or ideals, has insisted that the real is essentially the social or
communicable. Each has failed to recognize how the other half lives.

Another dogmatic fallacy which has been committed by idealists,
to smooth out the realistic discontinuities and ease the shock of
actualities, is the play upon the implicit and explicit. I would not
say that the category of the implicit has no legitimate use. Wherever
we are dealing with a purposive whole of any kind, intellectual,
ethical or esthetic, we not only can but must use the category of
the implicit. The earlier part of the argument must imply or fore-
shadow the later within the logical unity. The earlier part of the
dramatic plot must find its fulfilment in the later ; the moral struggle
points to an ideal. The abuse of the category of the implicit comes
when we apply our purposes to infra-purposive realities. Because
thinking as a process arises under certain structural conditions of
complexity, this does not prove that earlier and simpler stages must
be treated as degrees of thinking. There seem, on the contrary, to
be qualitative leaps in the genetic series of experience, not reducible
to the quantitative category of degrees. Thinking is a new fact in
the series — furnishes a new context of significance. Again, because
we systematize nature according to the presuppositions of the re-
flective moment, this does not imply a reflective unity in nature.
Here again there seems to be a discontinuity, so far as meaning is
concerned, which thought must acknowledge and cannot bridge, ob-
jectively at any rate, by any implicit assumption as regards thought's
own procedure.

Another current dogmatic fallacy is the assumption that be-
cause we take contents over in thinking them, therefore we trans-
mute or make them over, if indeed we do not create them outright, in
taking account of them. But the transmutation of the immediate
or non-reflective has to do with its significance, not its content.
The colors in the painting are the same that we have seen thousands

608 THE MONIST.

of times, though here they are used to express a new meaning. The
gold we think about has precisely the same qualities as the gold
which was present as an object of immediate perception or esthetic
admiration. It does not change its color or size because we reflect
on it. It is the same object with the same qualities and relations,
i. e., if we conceive it truly, except that much of the existential has
been omitted and the relation of cognitive significance has been
superadded.

Another fallacy is the assumption that what is not stuff cannot
be real. This assumption is very old. It is assumed by Parmenides
when he dismisses non-being as unthinkable and unspeakable. It is
assumed by Kant in his antimony of space and time, when he main-
tains that the relation to nothing is no relation. Most philosophers
have followed the leadership of these distinguished thinkers. But
the assumption that zero is unthinkable and that the relation to
nothing is no relation has been abandoned by mathematics for logical
reasons. There is no more important relation in number than the
relation to zero. The limiting concept of zero has also proved of
great value in metaphysics as well as in mathematics. Take space
for example : While space is no thing, yet as distance it is an impor-
tant condition in the interaction of things.

Instead of the dogmatic method pursued by the old idealism
and materialism alike, we must substitute scientific method. This
method has been rechristened within recent years by C. S. Peirce
and William James and called pragmatism. As I understand this
method it means simply to carry the scientific spirit into metaphysics.
It means the willingness to acknowledge reality for what it is ; what
it is always meaning for us, what difference it makes to our reflec-
tive purposes. Instead of insisting upon identity of stuff, as dog-
matism has always done, this method is discriminative. It enables
us to break up the universe and to deal with it piecemeal, to recog-
nize unity where there is unity and chaos where there is chaos, pur-
pose where there is purpose and the absence of purpose where there
is no evidence of purpose. The universe in each part or stage of
development is what we must acknowledge it to be, not necessarily
what we do acknowledge, but what we must acknowledge to live
life successfully. This acknowledgment, moreover, is not a mere
will to believe or volitional fiat, but, at least as knowledge becomes
organized, a definite and conscious acknowledgment. An unlimited
will to believe as regards objective reality would be possible, if at
all, only before we have organized knowledge, that is, if you could

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 609

imagine knowledge starting in a conscious will-act. When we al-
ready have organized knowledge, if we choose to know, the possi-
bilities become limited. In case of fully organized knowledge the
place of the indeterminate will to believe would be the will not to
think, that is, to commit intellectual suicide.

Neither can we state the truth attitude in merely subjective
terms. The truth attitude must face outward. It must orient us
to a context existing on its own account, whether past or present.
In such orientation or such external meaning lies the significance
of truth. The truth attitude cannot be characterized as merely
doubt with a transition to a new equilibrium, and as ceasing with
certainty. The truth attitude may at least involve the consciousness
that we know that we know. To be sure, the nervousness of science
leads us to repeat the experiment, in order to make sure that we
have made no mistake ; but that does not alter the truth of our first
finding, if the experiment proves correct. Truth, as we have it,
involves two things, — first, luminousness, or a peculiar satisfaction
to the individual experience at the time, due to its felt consistency or
fluent termination in its intended object. This is the positive truth
value, whether formal or factual. The other factor involved in
scientific truth is the feeling of tentativeness or openness to correc-
tion. This is a qualification or nervousness on the part of the truth
attitude either as a result of an actual feeling of discrepancy and
fragmentariness as regards our present meaning; or it may be due
to a more general feeling of instability based upon our finitude and
the time character of our meanings. Such correction can only
come through further experience, whether of the immediate or for-
mal type. We cannot say that the value consists in the future con-
sequences or leadings. These obviously have no value until they
come. Further experience furnishes the possibility of correction of
our truth values and so of producing new values. I say possibility
of correction because repeating the experiment, while it relieves our
nervousness, does not necessarily produce a new truth. The truth
meaning must first be stated in schematic terms on the basis of the
data as we have them and then tried out in terms of consequences.
If the truth value lay merely in the consequences or leadings there
could be no such thing as truth value. Truth must face backward
in order to face forward. It is Janus faced.

We may lay it down, then, that the real must be known through
our purposive attitudes or conceptual construction. Real objects
are never constituted by mere sense perception. They are not com-

6lO THE MONIST.

pounds of sensations. Sensations are our awareness of the going
on of certain physiological changes, whether connected with an
extra-organic world or not. They cannot be said, therefore, to con-
stitute things. These presuppose selective purpose. They can only
become objects for a self-realizing will. The real is the intelligible
or noumenal, not the mere immediate ; and by the noumenal I mean
what we must meet, what reality must be taken as in our procedure,
as opposed to our sensations. It is through conative purpose that
knowledge of the character of our world becomes possible. The
immediate, however, must furnish the evidence; in the language of
Professor James it puts us next to the real object, it establishes
energetic continuity with the intended context of reality.

Empiricism, therefore, is at best a half-way house. We cannot
say that the real is merely what is perceived or what makes an im-
mediate difference to our conscious purposes, whether in the way
of value or of fact. We must at least say that the real is what can
be perceived, unless we bring in some deus ex machina or supernat-
ural storehouse of percepts, as Berkeley does. Surely the empirical
idealist of to-day would not say that the increased powers of the
telescope or microscope create the facts. Nor can the uniformity
of our expectancies be credited to our individual perception, and,
hence, from the perceptualist point of view, requires another deus
ex machina. To say that uniformity or stability is a social fact
does not explain the fact, but presupposes an extra-social constitu-
tion, a constitution binding upon all of us. Not only perception, but
possible perception, must be invoked to complete the empirical ideal-
ist's reality ; and "possible" itself is not a category of perception.

As the old idealist and the old realist alike assumed the quali-
tative identity of cause and effect, it became necessary to think of
subjective states as copies of external qualities. Naive realism and
idealism alike assume this copy-relation of the subjective on one hand
and the real qualities on the other. In modified realism, the primary
qualities at least must be copied. For the empirical idealism of
to-day the problem still remains as to whether the perceptions
and the objective qualities are the same. Unless the idealist be-
comes a solipsist he must show that his subjective copies are
adequate to a world as existent. This difficulty would vanish,
once we abandoned the dogmatic and unintelligible duplication of
qualities, as though qualities could exist passively by themselves.
Qualities are energies. They are what objects must be taken as
in determinate contexts. To ask what perceptual qualities are, when

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 6ll

they are not perceived, becomes in that case as superfluous as it is
meaningless. Processes, of which we are not conscious, have no per-
ceptual qualities, unless, under certain other conditions, they can make
perceptual differences to beings organized as we are. To speak of
archetypal qualities is merely duplicating this moment of perception
— to take what exists in a context as an abstract idea. If these non-
conscious reals act upon other non-conscious reals, we have not
perceptual differences, but chemical or physical changes. These
must be interpolated by us in order to make continuous our per-
ceptual scheme. We saw the wood burning in the grate: in our
absence the fire has gone out and the wood has turned to ashes.
To piece together this discontinuity in our perceptions we must as-
sume certain differences or changes which cannot themselves be
expressed as perceptions. And thus we come to realize that while
we must take some qualities of things as existing as part of our
perceptual context, we must also take other qualities as existing
independent of perception in their own dynamic thing-contexts,
which we can read off a posteriori and predict under determinate
conditions.

Even granting a being, therefore, who should have perceptual
differences for all the changes going on, minute or great, and with-
out breach of continuity, even he would not have a complete account
of reality. The real individual cannot be exhausted as a compound
of perceptual qualities. He must be acknowledged as something
more than the sum total of his sense appearances, past, present and
future. If sensations alone constituted reality, then the more sen-
sations the more reality. Take Helen Keller's reality, for example,
on this supposition. For convenience, I will use Professor Titche-
ner's estimate of the number and kinds of sensations. According
to him, sight furnishes us 32,820 different sensations, hearing 11,600,
making a total of 44,420. As Helen Keller possesses neither the
sense of sight nor that of hearing, her reality would be to our reality
as 15 is to 44,435. But Helen Keller seems to be able to enter
into communion with human beings all over the world, to share their
purposes, to sympathize with them and help them better than most
human beings with the use of all their senses. The reason the
position that reality is the sum of its perceptions, has seemed so
plausible lies partly in the fallacious use of the method of agreement,
partly in the confusion between the causa cognoscendi and the causa
essendi. The perceptual qualities do exist ; and it is through them
we become immediately conscious of an external world. Objects are

6l2 THE MONIST.

what they are perceived as, but indefinitely more. We must not for-
get that there are other contexts, such as the multitudinous thing-con-
texts and the contexts of our will attitudes. These may be practically
more significant for determining the reality of a thing than our sen-
sations— not all of which can be treated as sense qualities. It may be
of more practical significance for the nature of water that it satisfies
thirst than that it gives us a number of contact reactions. When we
come to deal with a human being, a friend of ours, the inadequacy of
mere perceptual qualities becomes even more evident. He is not to be
taken merely as his height, nor his color, nor his softness, nor his
hardness, nor even the sum total of all the perceptions we can get. He
is primarily what we must acknowledge, what fulfills a unique pur-
pose on the part of our wills, and, as opposed to the gold or the
stone, a reality with an inner meaning which we can to some extent
copy.

We have seen that experience becomes truth only through con-
ceptual construction or purposive will attitudes. Percepts only be-
come cognitively significant as termini of ideal construction, as veri-
fication stuff. No wonder that the perceptualists have not been able
to discover non-being dimensions, since these could not be perceived,
but discovered only through the most subtle conceptual tools, ac-
cording to the real difference which they make to our purposive
striving. We have already indicated that because reality can only
be known conceptually, that does not mean that reality must be con-
ceptual. Reality is, however, only knowable in so far as it is con-
ceptualized. In recognizing that reality could not be treated alto-
gether as purpose, moral or intellectual, Kant showed a keenness
far exceeding that of his critics, as he showed his obtuseness in not
recognizing that purpose, as expressed in individual and institu-
tional life, is a real part of reality.

Since perceptual qualities are the felt continuities or functional
connections of energetic centers, when a conscious agent is part
of the complex, there can be no sense in speaking of these qualities
as either acting upon the will or parallel to the world of will-acts.
The perceptual qualities do not exist independent of the concrete
situation, so that they could act upon it. They are what the object
must be taken as, or known as, in the special psychophysical context.
They preexist only potentially, i. e., as what the object can be taken
as in the determinate context. They are, however, only one type of
transient connections or energetic continuities. These energetic
continuities may be intersubjective relations, and in that case com-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 613

munication and conceptual understanding are possible. They may
be relations to centers below the reflective level. In that case knowl-
edge becomes instrumental — a reweaving of a non-meaning context
into the unity of our purposes.

Equipped with our subjective purposes, or conceptual tools, we
can confront the larger world. In the course of conscious experi-
ence, as we strive to realize our tendencies, formal or parctical, the
world beyond us becomes differentiated and labeled according to
our success or failure. But the real objects are not constituted by
our differentiation, except when we make our realities outright, as
in the case of artistic creation. The meaning for us is, indeed, cre-
ated in the course of experience, but not the objects which we mean.
Else science were impossible. The real objects must be acknowl-
edged or met, whether they are to be understood or to be controlled.

The world of real objects may be differentiated into two general
divisions, the world of being or stuff, on the one hand, and the world
of non-being or non-stuff, on the other. By the former I understand
various types of expectancy or uniformity, which we can have in re-
gard to our perceptual world. These types of uniformity, again, can be
graded into two main divisions, namely, those which we can ac-
knowledge metaphysically as purposive in their own right and those
we must acknowledge as existing and must meet, but which have no
inwardness or value on their own account. The former we must
learn to understand and appreciate, the latter to anticipate and control.
The former constitute the realm of idealism, the latter of material-
ism. Whether our conceptual structures should be regarded as copies
or as tools with reference to the larger world is not a question that
can be settled after the manner of either or, but must depend upon
the kind of reality we mean. If this reality is that of other purposive
structures or meanings, then the relation must be that of copying
or sharing; if the reality aimed at is infra-reflective, then the rela-
tion must be instrumental. As regards the stuff character of reality
our theory is frankly pluralistic, acknowledging different kinds and
grades of energetic centers according to the differences they make
to our reflective purposes.

But we must also take account of the non-stuff dimensions of
reality. These differ from the stuff types in that they are not per-
ceptually continuous with our psychophysical organism. They can-
not appear as immediate phenomena, but still must be acknowledged
for the realization of our purposes. Thus we must ackowledge the
transformation of our values, the instability of our meanings. Time

614 THE MONIST.

creeps into our equations and makes revision necessary. New values
can only be had by waiting. Again, space, as distance, abstracting
from the content of space, conditions our intersubjective relations,
as well as our relations to non-purposive beings. It makes possible
externality of energetic centers and free mobility. Further, the
relativity of our meanings and ideals makes necessary the assump-
tion of an absolute direction, a normative limit, to measure the
validity of our finite standards. Lastly, we find it convenient to
abstract the fact of consciousness from the changing contents and
the conative attitudes. While our awareness is intermittent, the
conative attitudes and purposes may be comparatively constant.
These non-stuff dimensions must be regarded as real as the will
centers which they condition. They are more knowable than the
world of stuff, because their characters are few and simple, whereas
the varieties and contexts of stuff are almost infinite. Thus, by means
of our conceptual tools, we are able to discover not only various
kinds of stuff, but we are able to discover dimensions of reality
of ultimate importance, where microscopes and telescopes cannot
penetrate — realities which eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor ever
will see or hear, more subtle than ether or radium, if these be more
than fictions.

JOHN E. BOODIN.
UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS.

EDITORIAL COMMENT.

Prof. John E. Boodin will be remembered by the readers of
The Monist for his article on "Philosophic Tolerance" (April, 1908)
in which he supported the pragmatism of Professor James. At that
time the editor asked him to make a reply to the comments on his
views in the editorial article on "Pragmatism" which appeared in
the following issue. Professor Boodin has not made use of the in-
vitation, but prefers to offer to the readers of The Monist an expo-
sition of his views without reference to the controversy in question.

In the present article Professor Boodin makes the following
statement: "Instead of the dogmatic method pursued by the old
idealism and materialism alike, we must substitute scientific method.
This method has been rechristened within recent years by C. S.
Peirce and William James and called pragmatism."

If pragmatism avowedly accepts the scientific method, would
it not be better to call it the "Philosophy of Science" ? Nevertheless,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 615

so far as we understand the movement, pragmatism does not credit
science with the ability to build up a philosophy. To pragmatists
the will to believe and the personal equation are more important
than the assured results of scientific inquiry while science is criticised
for the instability of its doctrines.

We do not believe that C. S. Peirce and Prof. William James
can be lumped together as if their pragmatism were one and the
same. Each of them has his own preferences but both are very
different. Mr. Peirce is strong in logic and truly scientific in his
work, while William James is very original and ingenious. But if
pragmatism, as commonly understood, were truly nothing but an-
other name for "scientific method," it would not have anything new
to offer, and there would be no need of starting life over again ; it
would have been sufficient to continue the work of science and apply
its methods more and more thoroughly in all fields, especially in the
department of philosophy.

ON POINCARE'S "MATHEMATICAL CREATION."1

M. Poincare's essay on mathematical invention which appeared
in the July Monist, is of supreme interest for the psychologist. It
offers a valuable contribution to the psychology of genius, at the
same time relegating "unconscious cerebration," the importance of
which has been somewhat exaggerated, to the place it ought to
occupy.

Why are so few men capable of mathematical creation or even
of comprehending mathematics? M. Poincare, I believe, gives the
best reason when he attributes this impotence not only to an insuffi-
cient strength of memory and attention, but even and especially to the
absence of a special intuition, of a proper feeling for mathematical
questions.

A mathematical demonstration in fact, as he rightly says, is
not a simple juxtaposition of syllogisms, but a succession of syllo-
gisms placed "in a certain order" — an order which the true mathe-
matician feels directly so that he perceives as "a whole" the course
of reasoning which supports it.

In my opinion a secondary difficulty upon which Poincare has
nothing to say and of which he has perhaps failed to take note, lies
in the use of symbols. This difficulty (and we may note in passing
that scientific symbols are usually repugnant to artists, especially

1 Translated from the French by Lydia G. Robinson.

6l6 THE MONIST.

to painters) generally appears whenever we depart from the con-
crete, or rather from a presentation which is familiar to us, to pass
to one which is less, or not at all, familiar. Thus certain people
have trouble in relating the true geography of a country to its
representation on a map. Such again in other respects is the case
of the musician who does not compose without resorting to his in-
strument, even when the written notes arouse the sounds in his ear.2

It is not by accident that I refer to this instance. Mathematics
and music are closely comparable, however different the two studies
may be in other respects. Both require aptitudes above all which
are most definite and most easily recognizable. And let no one
think that the talent of the musician rests only in the quality of his
hear! The musical faculty, no less than the mathematical, requires
a special intuition. An intrinsic logic regulates invention in music,
and consequently its comprehension, as well as in the most abstruse
calculus. Like the mathematician the composer3 chooses from among
themes offered to him those that are productive, that is to say sus-
ceptible of development. There are ideas or themes which lead
to nothing; and the developments of a fertile idea not only obey
known rules, but there must be a particular sense, a direct spon-
taneous understanding of the logic according to which they are
arranged.

Let us now come to the part played in invention by the uncon-
scious or the subconscious.

The period of unconsciousness does not indicate simply a rest,
a recuperation of cerebral energy. It performs work; but what
work? That is the question. It is not purely automatic since there
is a choice. Is it then the unconscious which makes the choice and
which thus becomes more clear sighted than the conscious? Poin-
care refuses to believe so. The performance of actual work, he
says, must precede the mysterious operation of the subconscious,
and this very operation can be completed only in a fully conscious
state. How then shall we explain the choice ? According to him the
results produced by the subconscious or subliminal will be those
which interest the sensibility, like the esthetic sense of the mathe-
matician ; only those proposed combinations which satisfy his esthetic
sense (and this indeed is very important in mathematics4) will pass

2 See my "Observation sur une musicienne" in Revue philosophique, Sept.
1903, and Art et psychologic individuelle (Paris, F. Alcan, 1906).

8 1 mean especially the composer of symphonies. Dramatic music is "mod-
ulated" not "developed."

4 In chess a bad play gives an unpleasant appearance to the chess board,

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 617

through the sieve of unconsciousness. But there is always a succes-
sion of voluntary efforts which has put the whole machine into
motion and offers favorable combinations.

The eminent geometrician is entirely right, and I can not pro-
test too strongly against the tendency of certain psychologists to
exaggerate the role of the unconscious after it had been too much
neglected. Distrust of our reason must not lead us to yield every-
thing to instinct ; nor the scorn of clear thought, to imagine any sort
of obscure intelligence.

It is now many years since I myself pointed out "the positive
orientation which serves as a good preparation for our system of
images,"5 and noted that this orientation presupposed a "choice."'1
I was speaking of the work of the artist and poet, but are there not
the closest relations between our most widely diversified modes of
creation ?

Have we not all observed also what happens when we have left
a task in what I shall call a state of confusion (embronillement) ?
When we resume it we no doubt gain by the comparative rest ac-
corded our nervous cells, but only the salient ideas, the principal
points of view have survived and have taken their rank in the con-
fused mass of our thoughts. The task already begun has been con-
tinued in our mind ; a sort of purification has taken place and one
last effort is enough to bring it to the point. So, borrowing M.
Poincare's comparison, the gaseous atoms put in motion by pre-
liminary effort continue their dance after our will no longer has
control, but in the direction in which it has impelled them.

If we mean that work is accomplished without us, at least it
has always been prepared by us. There is a clear state of conscious-
ness in the finishing as well as at the start.

LUCIEN ARREAT.

PARIS, FRANCE.

FOUR-FOLD MAGICS.

Having read Professor Kingery's interesting article in the
April Monist, entitled "Magic in the Fourth Dimension," I wish

but in a case of this kind visual attractiveness is affected, if I may say so, by
intellectual attractiveness.

5 Memoire et imagination, p. 134.
* Art et psychol. indiv., p. 122.

6l8 THE MONIST.

to make some comments which may be of general interest.1 In my
opinion his treatment does not clearly argue out the analogy, with
the result that none of his productions can be considered as a four-
fold magic.

A magic square has two magic directions parallel to its sides
through any cell — a row and a column ; a magic cube has three magic
directions parallel to its edges, a row, a column and a "line," the latter
being measured at right angles to the paper-plane. By analogy,
if for no other reason, a magic 4-fold should have four magic direc-
tions parallel to its linear edges, a row, a column, a line, and an "i"
[The i is a convenient abbreviation for the imaginary direction,
after the symbol i = V — i.] It is quite easy to determine by analogy
how the imaginary direction is to be taken. If we look at a cube,
set out as so many square sections on a plane, we see that the direc-
tions we have chosen to call rows and columns are shown in the
square sections, and the third direction along a line is found by
taking any cell in the first square plate, the similarly situated cell
in the second plate, then that in the third and so on. In an octra-
hedroid the rows, columns and lines are given by the several cubical
sections, viewed as solids, while the fourth or imaginary direction
is found by starting at any cell in the first cube, passing to the cor-
responding cell of the second cube, then to that of the third, and
so on. If we examine Professor Kingery's examples, we see that
only his octahedroids of orders qn, i. e., 4*, 8*, are magic in the
imaginary direction.

If we denote each of the nine subsidiaries of order 3 in Fig. i
by the number in its central cell, and take the three squares 45, i,
77, in that order, to form the plates of a first cube ; 73, 41, 9 to form
a second cube, and 5, 81, 37 for a third cube, we get an associated
octahedroid, which is magic along the four directions parallel to its
edges and on its 8 central hyperdiagonals. Comparing the above
figure with Professor Kingery's Fig. i, which is only "semi-nasik,"
we find the magic sum on 9 rows, 9 columns and 18 diagonals, the
nine subsidiaries equally weighted and magic in rows and columns,

1 The subject has been treated before in :

Frost (A. H.), "The Properties of Nasik Cubes," Quarterly Journal of
Mathematics, London, 1878, p. 93.

"C. P." (C. Planck), "Magic Squares, Cubes, etc.," The English Mechanic,
London, March 16, 1888.

Arnoux (Gabriel), Arithmetique graphique, Paris, 1894, Gauthier-Villars
et Fils.

Planck (C.), The Theory of Path Nasiks, 1905. Printed for private circu-
lation. There are copies at the British Museum, the Bodleian, Oxford, and the
University Library, Cambridge.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

and further the square is 9-ply, that is the nine numbers in any
square section of order 3 give the magic sum of the great square.

It will be convenient here to turn aside and examine the evo-
lution of the nasik idea and the general analogy between the figures
of various dimensions in order that we may determine how the nasik
concept ought to be expanded when we apply it in the higher dimen-
sions. This method of treatment is suggested by Professor King-
ery's remark, p. 310, "It is not easy — perhaps it is not possible — to
make an absolutely perfect cube of 3." If we insist on magic central
diagonals we know that, in the restricted sense, there is only one
magic square" of order 3, but if we reckon reflections and reversions
as different there are 8. If we insist on magic central great diag-
onals in the cube, as by analogy we ought to do, then, in the re-

Fig. i.

stricted sense, there are just 4 magic cubes of order 3. But each
of these can be placed on any one of six bases and then viewed from
any one of four sides, and each view thus obtained can be duplicated
by reflection. In the extended sense, therefore, there are 192 magic
cubes of order 3. None of these, however, has the least claim to
be considered "perfect." This last term has been used with several
different meanings by various writers on the subject. From the
present writer's point of view the nasik idea, as presently to be de-
veloped, ought to stand pre-eminent ; next in importance comes
the ply property, then the adornment of magic subsidiaries, with the
properties of association, bent diagonals of Franklin, etc., etc., tak-
ing subordinate places.

62O THE MONIST.

The lattice idea certainly goes back to prehistoric time, and
what we now call the rows and columns of a rectangular lattice
first appealed to man because they disclose contiguous rectilinear
series of cells, that is sets of cells, whose centers are in a straight
line, and each of which has linear contact with the next. It must
soon have been noticed that two other series exist in every square,
which fulfil the same conditions, only now the contact is punctate
instead of linear. They are what we call the central diagonals. It
was not until the congruent nature of the problem was realized that
it became apparent that a square lattice has as many diagonals as
rows and columns together. Yet the ancient Hindus certainly recog-
nized this congruent feature. The eccentric diagonals have been
called "broken diagonals," but they are really not broken if we re-
member that we tacitly assume all space of the dimensions under
consideration saturated with contiguous replicas of the figure before
us, cells similarly situated in the several replicas being considered
identical. A. H. Frost2 nearly 50 years ago invented the term "nasik"
to embrace that species of square which shows magic summations
on all its contiguous rectilinear series of cells, and later extended
the idea by analogy to cubes,3 and with less success to a figure in
four dimensions. If the nasik criterion be applied to 3-dimensional
magics what does it require? We must have 3 magic directions
through any cell parallel to the edges, (planar contact), 6 such
directions in the diagonals of square sections parallel to the faces
(linear contact), and 4 directions parallel to the great diagonals of
the cube (point contact), a total of 13 magic directions through
every cell. It has long been known that the smallest square which
can be nasik is of order 4, or if the square is to be associated, (that
is with every pair of complementary numbers occupying cells which
are equally displaced from the center of the figure in opposite di-
rections), then the smallest nasik order is 5. Frost stated definitely*
that in the case of a cube the smallest nasik order is 9; Arnot5 was
of opinion that it would be 8, though he failed to construct such a
magic. It is only quite recently6 that the present writer has shown

1 Quarterly Journal of Mathematics, London, 1865, and 1878, pp. 34 and 93.

8 The idea of the crude magic cube is, of course, much older : Fermat
gives a 4" in his letter to Mersenne of the 1st of April, 1640. (Ewvres de
Fermat, Vol. II, p. 191.

* Quarterly Journal, Vol. XV, p. 1 10.

5 Arithmetique graphique, Paris, 1894, p. 140.

8 Theory of Path Nasiks, 1905.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 621

that the smallest nasik order in k dimensions is always 2k, (or
2k-\-i if we require association).

It is not difficult to perceive that if we push the nasik analogy
to higher dimensions the number of magic directions through any
cell of a fc-fold must be £(3* — i), for we require magic directions
from every cell through each cell of the surrounding little &-fold
of order 3. In a 4-fold nasik, therefore, there are 40 contiguous
rectilinear summations through any cell. But how are we to de-
termine these 40 directions and what names are we to assign to the
magic figures in the 4th and higher dimensions? By far the best
nomenclature for the latter purpose is that invented by Stringham,7
who called the regular m-dimensional figure, which has n (m — i)-
dimensional boundaries, an m-fold w-hedroid. Thus the square is
a 2- fold tetrahedroid (tetragon), the cube a 3- fold hexahedroid
(hexahedron) ; then come the 4- fold octahedroid, the 5-fold deca-
hedroid, and so on. Of course the 2-fold octahedroid is the plane
octagon, the 3-fold tetrahedroid the solid tetrahedron ; but since the
regular figure in k dimensions which is analogous to the square and
cube has always 2k (k — i) -dimensional boundaries — is in fact a
&-fold 2£-hedroid — the terms octahedroid, decahedroid, etc., as ap-
plied to magics, are without ambiguity, and may be appropriately
used for magics in 4, 5, etc. dimensions, while retaining the familiar
"square," "cube," for the lower dimensions.

To obtain a complete knowledge of these figures, requires a
study of analytical geometry of the 4th and higher dimensions, but,
by analogy, on first principles, we can obtain sufficient for our pur-
pose. If we had only a linear one-dimensional space at command
we could represent a square of order n in two ways, ("aspects"),
either by laying the n rows, in order, along our linear dimension,
or by dealing similarly with the n columns. In the first aspect, by
rows, the cells which form any column cannot appear as contiguous,
though they actually are so when we represent the figure as a square
on a plane. Similarly we can represent a cube on a plane in three
aspects. Suppose the paper-plane is placed vertically before us and
the cube is represented by n squares on that plane (P-plane aspect).
We get a second aspect by taking, in order, the first column of each
square to form the first square of the new aspect, all the second col-
umns, in order, to form the second square of the new aspect, and so
on (V-plane aspect). We obtain a third aspect by dealing simi-
larly with the rows (H-plane aspect). Here the "lines," which

'American Journal of Mathematics, Vol. Ill, 1880.

622

THE MONIST.

appear as contiguous cells in the V- or H-plane aspects do not so
appear in the P-plane aspect, though they actually are contiguous
when we examine the cube as a solid in three dimensions. Now
consider an octahedroid represented by n cubes in a space of three
dimensions. We get a second aspect by taking the n anterior, vertical
square plates of each cube, in order, to form a first new cube; the

Fig. 2. Pj- and P2-aspects.

•80

Fig. 3. V-aspect.

Fig. 4. H- aspect.

n plates immediately behind the anterior plate in each cube to form
a second new cube, and so on. Evidently we obtain a third aspect,
in like manner, by slicing each cube into vertical, antero-posterior
plates, and a fourth aspect by using the horizontal plates. Carrying
on the same reasoning, it becomes clear that we can represent a
fc-fold of order n, in k — I dimensions, by n (k — i) -folds, in k dif-

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 623

ferent aspects. Thus we can represent a 5-fold decahedroid of
order n, in 4-dimensional space, by n 4-fold octahedroids, and this in
5 different ways or aspects.

Return now to Fig. i and the rule which follows it, for form-
ing from it the magic octahedroid of order 3. If we decide to
represent the three cubic sections of the octahedroid by successive
columns of squares we get Fig. 2.

If we obtain a second aspect by using the square plates of the
paper-plane, as explained above, we find that this is equivalent
to taking the successive rows of squares from Fig. 2 to form our
three cubes, instead of taking the columns of squares. Thus the
presentation plane shows two different aspects of an octahedroid ;
this is due to the fact that the fourth dimension is the square of
the second. We may call these aspects Px- and P2-aspects. The
aspect obtained by using antero-posterior vertical planes is shown in
Fig. 3, that from horizontal planes in Fig. 4. We may call these
the V- and H-aspects. If we use the rows of squares in Figs. 3
or 4 we get correct representations of the octahedroid, but these
are not new aspects, they are merely repetitions of Pt, for they give
new views of the same three cubes as shown in Pv In the same
way, if we turned all the P-plane plates of a cube upside down
we should not call that a new aspect of the cube. The aspects
P2, V, H can be obtained from Px by turning the octahedroid as a
whole in 4-dimensional space, just as the V-plane and H-plane
aspects of a cube can be obtained from the P-plane aspect by
turning the cube in 3-dimensional space. Fig. 4, above, is Fig.
2 turned through a right angle about the plane of xy; we can
turn about a plane in 4 dimensions just as we turn about a
straight line in 3 dimensions or about a point in 2 dimensions. It
will be noticed that in the four aspects each of the 4 directions
parallel to an edge becomes in turn imaginary, so that it cannot be
made to appear as a series of contiguous cells in 3-dimensional
space ; yet if we had a 4-dimensional space at command, these four
directions could all be made to appear as series of contiguous cells.
There is one point, however, which must not be overlooked. When
we represent a cube as so many squares, the rows and columns ap-
pear as little squares having linear contact, but actually, in the
cube, the cells are all cubelets having planar contact. Similarly, in
an octahedroid represented as so many cubes the rows and col-
umns appear as cubelets having planar contact, but in the octa-

624 THE MONIST.

hedroid the cells are really little octahedroids having solid, 3-dimen-
sional contact.

When we examine the above octahedroid (Figs. 2-4) in all its
aspects we see that there are through every cell 4 different direc-
tions parallel to the edges, 12 directions parallel to the diagonals
of the square faces, and 16 directions parallel to the great diagonals
of the several cubical sections. There remain for consideration the
hyperdiagonals, which bear to the octahedroid the same relation that
the great diagonals bear to a cube. If we represent a cube by squares
on a plane we can obtain the great diagonals by starting at any
corner cell of an outside plate, then passing to the next cell of the
corresponding diagonal of the succeeding plate, and so on. Simi-
larly we obtain the hyperdiagonals of the octahedroid by starting
from any corner cell of an outside cube, passing to the next cell
on the corresponding great diagonal of the succeeding cube, and so
on. Evidently there are 8 central hyperdiagonals, for we can start
at any one of the 8 corners of one outside cube and end at the oppo-
site corner of the other outside cube. There are therefore, through
any cell, 8 different directions parallel to the central hyperdiagonals.
With the directions already enumerated this makes a total of 40
directions through each cell and agrees with the result already stated.8
Evidently the number of ^-dimensional diagonals of a fe-fold is 2k~l,
and if the analogy with the magic square is to be carried through
then all the central fe-dimensional diagonals of a fe-fold ought always
to be magic. It is here that Professor Kingery's 44 and 8* fail ; they
are not magic on their central hyperdiagonals.

The smallest octahedroid which can have all these 40 directions
magic is i64, and the writer has given one of the 256 square plates
of this magic and a general formula by which the number occupying
any specified cell can be determined. But it will be interesting to
determine how nearly we can approach this ideal in the lower orders.
The octahedroid of order 3 can be but crude, and practically Fig. 2
cannot be improved upon. All rows, columns, lines, and "i"s are
magic, and likewise the 8 central hyper-diagonals. Of course, since
the figure is associated, all central rectilinear paths are magic, but

8 If we call the diagonals in square sections parallel to faces 2-dimensional,
those parallel to the great diagonals of cubical sections 3-dimensional, etc., etc.,
then the number of w-dimensional diagonals of afc-fold is 2"*— lk\/m\(k— m) !
In fact the number required is the (w-j-i)th term of the expansion of
^(l-f-2)*. It will be noticed that this reckons rows, columns etc. as "diag-
onals of one dimension."

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

625

this is of little account and other asymmetrical magic diagonal sum-
mations are purely accidental and therefore negligible.

Turning to the next odd order, 5 : Professor Kingery's Fig. 2
is not a magic octahedroid as it stands, but a magic can be obtained
from it by taking the diagonals of subsidiary squares to form the
5 cubes. Denoting each subsidiary by the number in its central cell,
we may use 602, 41, 210, etc. for the first cube; 291, 460 etc. for

495

271

589

152

478

259

597

IS6

267

499

59!

482

576

169

178

391

297

615

186

379

285

623

199

387

29!

606

182

4(/>

276

619

195

383

289

602

511

204

417

110

323

524

212

405

118

300

507

225

413

101

319

520

20S

421

114

302

503

216

409

122

315

349

537

230

44.1

332

550

23.S

426

345

533

246

439

328

541

234

447

336

529

242

435

375

563

126

469

35S

571

139

452

366

559

147

165

354

567

135

473

362

555

143

456

258

596

164

477

266

584

172

490

254

592

160

498

262

580

16S

481

275

588

151

494

378

284

622

19(3

386

292

610

198

399

280

618

181

382

100

288

601

194

395

296

614

177

211

404

117

310

523

224

412

105

318

506

207

425

113

301

519

220

408

121

314

502

203

416

109

322

515

$49

237

430

331

532

250

438

344

545

233

446

327

528

241

434

340

536

229

442

348

357

575

138

451

370

558

146

464

353

566

134

472

361

554

142-

460

374

562

130

468

270

583

171

489

253

591

159

497

261

579

167

485

274

587

155

493

257

600

163

476

291

609

197

390

279

617

185

398

287

605

193

381

300

613

176

394

283

621

189

377

411

104

317

510

223

424

112

305

518

206

407

125

313

501

219

420

108

321

514

202

403

116

309

522

215

249

437

343

531

232

450

326

544

245

433

339

527

228

441

347

540

236

429

335

548

557

150

463

369

570

133

471

352

553

141

459

365

561

129

467

373

574

137

455

356

595

158

496

252

578

166

484

265

586

154

492

273

599

162

480

256

582

175

488

269

278

616

184

397

286

604

192

385

299

612

180

393

282

625

188

376

295

608

196

389

111

304

517

210

423

124

312

505

218

406

107

325

513

201

419

120

308

521

214

402

103

316

509

222

415

449

330

543

231

432

338

526

244

445

346

539

227

428

334

547

240

436

342

535

248

132

475

351

569

145

458

364

552

128

466

372

565

136

454

360

573

149

462

368

556

170

483

264

577

153

491

272

590

161

479

260

598

174

487

268

581

157

500

251

594

603

191

384

290

611

179

392

298

624

187

380

281

607

200

3S8

294

620

183

396

277

311

504

217

410

123

324

512

205

418

106

307

525

213

401

119

320

508

221

414

102

303

516

209

422

337

530

243

431

350

538

226

444

333

546

239

427

341

534

247

440

329

542

235

44*

457

363

551

144

470

371

564

127

453

359

572

140

461

367

500

148

474

355

568

131

Fig 5-

the second cube ; 85, 149, etc. for the middle cube, etc., etc. But
few of the plane diagonals through any cell of this octahedroid are
magic. In fact no octahedroid of lower order than 8 can have all
its plain diagonals magic; but by sacrificing this property we can
obtain a 5* with many more magic properties than the above.

In Fig. 5 the great square is magic, nasik and 25-ply: the 25
subsidiaries are purposely not nasik, but they are all magic in rows

626

THE MONIST.

and columns. If we take up the subsidiaries in the way just de-
scribed, viz., 513, 221, etc., for the first cube; 205, 413, etc., for the
second cube, and so on, we get a 5*, which has 20 contiguous recti-
linear summations through any cell, viz., the 4 directions parallel
to the edges and the whole of the 16 three-dimensional diagonals
parallel to the great diagonals of any cubical section. If the reader
will write out the four aspects of the octahedroid, in the way already
explained, he will be able to verify this statement. As an example,
the 20 summations through the cell containing the number 325,
which lies in the first plate of the first cube of the Px aspect, are here
shown :

CUBICAL DIAGONALS

8 3

I Pj ASPECT 1 V ASPECT

H ASPECT

325 325 325 325

513 8 508 512

2OI 466 2l6 204

419 154 404 416
107 612 112 108

325 325 323 325

534 388 607 3
143 576 169 456
477 44 45i 164
86 232 13 617

325 3*5 325 325
538 392 6u 7
126 589 152 469
494 31 468 151
82 228 9 613

32S 32S 325 325
S33 387 608 4
141 579 166 458
479 41 454 '62
87 233 12 616

325 325 325 325
413 i°3 5<>7 509
501 406 219 218
119 214 401 402
207 517 113 in

Since there are 20 magic summations through each of the 625
cells and each summation involves 5 cells, the total number of dif-
ferent symmetrical magic summations in this octahedroid is 2500.
This does not include the 8 central hyperdiagonals, which are also
magic, for this is not a symmetrical property since all the hyper-
diagonals are not magic.

The next odd order, 7, was the one which Frost attacked.
Glass models of his 7 cubes were for many years to be seen at the
South Kensington Museum, London, and possibly are still there.
He does not appear to have completely grasped the analogy between
magics in 3 and 4 dimensions, and from the account he gives in
The Quarterly Journal, he evidently assumed that the figure was
magic on all its plane diagonals. Actually it is magic on all plane
diagonals only in the P-aspect; in the other 3 aspects it is nasik in
one set of planes but only semi-nasik in the other two sets of planes,
therefore of the 12 plane diagonal! through any cell of the octa-
hedroid only 9 are magic.9 Frost obtained his figure by direct
application of the method of paths; the present writer using the
method of formative square has obtained an example with one ad-
ditional plane magic diagonal. It is shown as a great square of order

' Probably the reader will have already noticed that although there are 4
aspects, and 6 plane diagonals appear in each aspect, yet there are only 12
plane diagonals in all, since, with this method of enumeration, each diagonal
occurs twice.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 627

49, magic on its 49 rows, 49 columns and 98 diagonals, and 49-ply, that
is any square bunch of 49 numbers gives the same sum as a row
or column. The 49 subsidiaries are equally weighted nasiks, magic
on their 7 rows, 7 columns and 14 diagonals. If the subsidiaries be
taken up along the Indian paths, as in the previous examples, we
get 7 cubes forming an octahedroid of order 7. This is magic on
the 4 directions parallel to the edges, is completely plane nasik in
the Pj and P2 aspects, and in the other two aspects it is nasik in two
sets of planes and crude in the third set. Therefore of the 12 plane
diagonals through any cell 10 are magic. It is practically certain
that we can go no further in this direction with this order, but by
giving up the magic plane diagonals we can, as with 5* above, obtain
a larger number of magic summations on the higher diagonals.

When we consider the even orders we find those 5 2 (mod 4)
of little interest. The powerful methods used for the other orders
are now useless if we insist on using consecutive numbers : we must
employ other methods. Professor Kingery's Fig. 4 cannot be made
into a magic octahedroid by any shuffling of its subsidiaries. The
best methods here, are either to use an extension of Thompson's
method of pseudo-cubes, as employed by Mr. Worthington in his
construction of 63 (The Monist, XX, pp. 303-309) ,10 or, best of all,
to use the method of reversions.

With orders E o(mod 4) we can give a greater number of ornate
features than with any other orders. We quote one example be-
low (Fig. 6).

The columns of Fig. 6 give the 4 cubes of an octahedroid of
order 4, which is crude in plane diagonals, but is magic on every
other contiguous rectilinear path, it has therefore 28 such paths
through each cell. The 28 magic paths through the cell containing
the number 155 are displayed below.

CUBICAL DIAGONALS

Pt ASPKCT | P2 ASPECT V ASPECT | H ASPKCT

iSS ISS ISS 155
38 70 98 101
91 171 151 154
230 118 no 104

iSS iSS '55 »55
2 50 242 194
103 103 103 103
254 206 14 62

iSS ISS ISS iSS
5 53 345 197
106 106 106 106
248 200 8 56

iSS iSS iSS ISS
77 125 "3 65
166 166 166 166
116 68 80 128

iSS iSS iSS iSS
36 33 225 228
86 86 86 86
237 240 48 45

" It was by this method that Firth in the 8o's constructed what was, almost
certainly, the first correct magic cube of order 6. Mr. IVorthington's intro-
duction of magic central diagonals on all the faces is new. Though, of course,
not a symmetrical summation, this is a very pleasing feature.

628

THE MONIST.

HYPERDIAGONALS

IS5 155 155 155 ISS ISS I5S I5S

256 208 16 64 253 205 13 61

IO2 IO2 IO2 102 IO2 IO2 102 IO2

I 49 241 193 4 52 244 196

254

131

110

211

174

206

179

115

227

158

118

203

182

230

155

251

134

214

171

107

242

143

223

162

194

191

127

239

146

122

199

186

234

151

247

138

218

167

103

Fig. 6.

But this does not exhaust the magic properties, for this figure
is 4-ply in every plane section parallel to any face of the octahedroid.
If the reader will examine the figure in its four aspects he will find
that 6 such planes can be drawn through any cell, and since a given
number is a member of four different 4-ply bundles in each plane,
it follows that each number is a member of 24 different bundles.
If we add the 28 rectilinear summations through any cell we see

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS.

629

that each of the 256 numbers takes part in 52 different summations.
The total number of different magic summations in the octahedroid

is therefore 256*52 = 3328. The six planes parallel to the faces

through 155 are shown in Fig. 7, and from them the 24 different
bundles in which 155 is involved can be at once determined.

118

203

182

230

155

251

134

214

171

107

104

217

168

230

155

101

220

165

231

154

Fig. 7-

The reader might object that the border cells of a square section
cannot be involved in 4 bundles of that section; but this would
be to overlook the congruent property. The number 107, which
occupies a corner cell of the first section given above is contained in
the following bundles:

It is noticeable that the four corner cells of a square form one of its
4-ply bundles.

It would have been desirable to indicate the methods by which
the above examples have been constructed, but exigencies of space
forbid. The four orders dealt with, 3, 5, 7, 4, were all obtained in
different ways. Fig. 6 was constructed by direct application, in
four dimensions, of the method of paths ; in fact, it is the octahedroid

a a a i

a a i a

a i a a

i a a a

The whole of its magic properties may be deduced by examination

630 THE MONIST.

of the determinant and its adjoint, without any reference to the
constructed figure. There is therefore nothing empirical about this
method.

C. PLANCK.
HAYWARD'S HEATH, ENGLAND.

BJOERKLUND'S "DEATH AND RESURRECTION."

The resume and discussion of the above book* with reference to
and contrast with the writings and position of Dr. Carus, by Mr.
J. E. Fries in The Monist, April issue, is deeply interesting. The
book itself is absorbingly so, evidencing large knowledge in re-
search and much independent thinking. It may not be conceded, how-
ever, as convincing in establishment of the thesis in theory — the
soul as a thing or matter of the cells. The author's discussion
scarce touches the soul, stopping short of the thing in pursuit, but
with an incompetent substitute. Cells are given individual but not
independent existence, and on that ground alone the cell is incom-
petent as basic to the soul.

Mr. Fries begins with the "life-force," and the Editor's earlier
published article "Life and the Soul," and the point in antagonism
with Dr. Carus is emphasized that "life has no roots whatever in
the material world." Surely "a strange statement" this ! Dr. Carus
is quoted as follows : "Living bodies consist of the very same mate-
rials of which the rest of the world is composed," which physics
and chemistry make certain. The "life phenomenon is sui generis" ;
this, too, science concedes. Again "... life is a manifestation of
energy which forms a category of its own" etc., a not pronounced
materialism this, surely. Here, then, is life-force sui generis yet
natural, no mysticism or supernaturalism involved or required.

To the somewhat equivocal question, "With no other resources
than the material world to fall back upon, how then did life grow
out of matter and physical energy?" it is answered: "Surely we
must look beyond the boundaries of the visible world." To this it
may be replied: Energy is not of category with matter and the
visible. Within the cosmic world, however, are found both matter
and energy, and whatever other factor may be essential to the
"origin and substance of life." The cosmical is the natural, and

* Death and Resurrection from the Point of View of the Cell-Theory by
Gustaf Bjorklund. Translated from the Swedish by J. E. Fries. Chicago,
Open Court Pub. Co., 1910.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 63!

with no necessary supernaturalism, in factor or fact. Science is
leading to the monism of but one energy or force in the universe —
varied in form or manifestation. To pit the psychic or spiritual
against the material, with kinds of force in consonance, involves in
confusion, and a divided house that cannot stand.

Soul and life, consciousness and energy are not synonymous or
correlative. But neither is soul nor consciousness nor thought with-
out energy. Kant's pure and transcendant are simply categories of
degree, not kind. All reason is reasoning, all sentiment is senti-
mental, be it angelic or devilish.

It follows, then, that there is no need to go outside the cosmical
world to find the roots or elements of life, or the source and origin
of all that is possible to thought manipulation. Life, and the human
soul and mind are the most natural of things, and the supernatural,
at least in the banal sense it has acquired, may be dispensed with
and no loss felt.

Mr. Fries quotes from the book : "... all organic matter is a
product of art, that is, a product which the forces of nature cannot
spontaneously produce. . .a foreign interference is necessary." Now,
it is certain that there are no other than the forces of nature to effect
these products. As certain also is there the psychic or art factor
in the effecting of the organic matter. But this psychic or art factor
is not a living will, or, as later on designated, soul, as the author
should himself have seen. He says: "Will and physical forces then
stand against each other as two fundamentally and radically different
causes. A will may neglect to do what it ought to, may be idle,
industrious, undecided ; a physical force cannot leave undone what
it has to do, can never be called idle, industrious or undecided."
To be sure that is so. Such a "will," therefore, cannot be in organic
connection with a physiological or living thing, because it achieves its
end as an organism harmoniously, and completely in and of itself.
No factor of the physiological organism stands against any other
factor in their entire ensemble, as such organisation is regal here.
The end, purposed in the organic is not present to the organism in
the form of idea (W. R. Sorley). There is no soul, no living will
in the physiological ; notwithstanding there is the psychic or art
factor, objective with all other factors of the organism as such, or
in its primalism. This objective psychic or art factor is a qualitative
property or power of life-force and may well constitute it special,
having this specific manifestation. Being of and with the life energy,
it is ubiquitous as the cell and initiates the directivity to the func-

632 THE MONIST.

tional intracellularly — as evidenced by all physiology, plant or ani-
mal.

Bjorklund's error is simple enough in his premises, and he has
a soul in every cell — his explaining away a multitude of souls is
quite inconclusive. His error is in not seeing that life-force, sui
generis as it is, is simply the physical energy — he is pleased to term
it — in directivity by complexing of the psychic or art factor, which
he interprets as soul, and Sir Oliver Lodge, equally mistaken, desig-
nates the "formative principle of the organism."

Life-force, without soul, or living will, is competent to the
whole of the physiological as a phenomenon. Possibly feelings,
correctly interpreted, but certainly not sentiments and thoughts are
the manifestations of life-force. Life-force as embodied in living
matter in germ status of every grade, is fully competent to the
whole of the physiological of its grade, but of nothing beyond. The
"foreign interference" of the author, correctly conceived and stated,
is a new departure in the evolutional. The origin of life marked an
epoch in cosmic evolution. The advent or coming into entity of
the human soul was another "foreign interference" equally epochal
evolutionally. This was attained by the complexing of the physio-
logical with a psychism subjective in status and role. Initial and
basic in the concept of soul and mind is this subjectivity. The physio-
logical is wholly objective — contingency and the stereotyped obtain,
directed by the psychic factor which is a constituent of the organism.
The fact of the go of the physiological is the hint of the soul and
mind, yet there is no soul or living will, because all is objective.
Let the mind sweep through all the vault of the cosmos, and but a
single subjective factor or phenomenon is found — man, the human
soul, a living will. He is subjective ; he does things ; mind is creative.
The soul or mind is distinct in concept and in essence, in being,
from the physiological. In non-connection, yet in vital and organized
relation and association with, and in evolution by means of the
organization effective in the physiological. The cell provides for,
is effective in, development of body and brain; but soul and mind
are not of the cell or brain. Soul, a psychism in subjectivity has
basis in immediacy with the functional. The theory and discussion
of it in Death and Resurrection must be reconsidered and recon-
structed to be in consonance with the facts, and so to be of "any
special value to religious or emotional life" (Cams).

JOSEPH CLEMENTS, M. D.

WICHITA, KANSAS.

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 633

THE HISTORICITY OF JESUS.

IN COMMENT UPON THE THEORY OF PROF. WILLIAM BENJAMIN SMITH.

Theology seems to be sufficiently remote from mathematics, and
yet it appears that the two join hands in the mind of an American
scholar, William Benjamin Smith, who by profession is a mathe-
matician but by preference a theologian. He is a professor of Tu-
lane University in New Orleans, La., where for many years he held
the chair of mathematics and has only recently been transferred to
the faculty of philosophy. He takes considerable interest in the
philosophy of mathematics, but has it tempered by studies in the
origin of Christianity. His special attention is concentrated upon the
figure of Jesus in the Gospels, and he has published a work in
German under the title "The Pre-Christian Jesus" (Der vorchrist-
Hclie Jesus) in which he attempts to prove that Jesus never lived.
His theory differs, however, from older ones which claim that Jesus
was a solar myth, in that his studies are based upon a thorough text
criticism of the New Testament supported by stupendous scholar-
ship in the field of patristic and Apocryphal literature.

Professor Smith has stirred Germany through Professor Drews
of Carlsruhe, Baden, who not only published a book entitled "The
Christ Myth," but also began a campaign of lectures in which he
challenged the old believers to defend the historicity of Jesus. Or-
thodox Berlin was shaken from its lethargic indifference by his
debates which attracted large crowds and filled many columns of
the daily press.

Professor Drews bases his contention mainly upon Professor
Smith's book, and in recapitulating the state of things he expresses
his views as follows :

"Finally the American William B. Smith, in his work Der z»or-
christliche Jesus (1906) has cast so bright a light on a number of
weighty factors in the origin of Christianity and has illuminated so
many points that permit us a deeper insight into the actual course
of events that we gradually begin to see clearly in this matter" (page
iii in the preface).

It is natural that this attack on the historicity of Jesus should
have found many antagonists, but strange to say it found among the
very opponents of Professor Smith's theory some who advocated
its investigation. Prof. A. Julicher, well known among theologians,
makes the following statement in his pamphlet "Did Jesus Live?"
page i :

634 THE MONIST.

"In the last decade, after some predecessors of little conse-
quence, a series of distinguished savants in America and Germany
have come forward with powerful attacks upon the whole traditional
conception of Jesus, foremost among them William B. Smith in
his Der vorchristliche Jesus."

The radical press shows itself inclined to endorse the position
of Smith, as for instance Wilhelm von Schnehen in Das freie Wort,
Vol. VIII, No. 16, page 623, who praises Smith's theory as a "de-
cisive blow" to the antiquated views, but liberal theologians have
come forth as his most doughty enemies. And this is but natural,
for while Smith sees in Jesus the humanization of a god, the liberal
Christian sees in Christ the deification of Jesus, a noble and pure
hearted idealist. Unitarians may not believe in Christ, the God made
flesh, but they believe in Jesus, the man, a paragon of moral perfec-
tion ; and the humanity of Jesus together with his historicity is the
salient point of their creed.

Professor Smith is known to our readers through several ar-
ticles published in The Open Court and The Monist, and it is not
easy to refute his theories. We agree with him so far as his positive
contentions go, but we demur to his negation. We agree that the
Christ ideal is pre-Christian. The idea of a Saviour among the
pagans and the hope for the Messiah among the Jews do not date
at the beginning of the Christian era, but can be traced almost every-
where in profane and sacred literature, not of the Jews alone, but
mainly of the Gentiles ; and this ideal of a Saviour has entered into
the fabric of the story of Jesus as preserved in the Gospels.

Professor Smith, however, goes one step farther. He claims not
only the pre-Christian existence of the Christ ideal, but also of a
Jesus, and there are many things which speak in his favor. Among
them he maintains for instance that the definite article prefixed to
the word Jesus indicates that "Jesus" like "Christ" was a title and
not a name ; therefore he is spoken of as "the Jesus." Further he
would explain the whole story of the Gospels as being the result of
symbolism, and in the present article he discusses evidences that can
be deduced from the silence of Josephus and Tacitus.

Jesus is nowhere mentioned in the profane literature of the
Gentiles; he is unknown to history. This is a truth accepted by
scholars, but not universally known, and its significance has not yet
been pointed out. Professor Cornill, one of the higher critics, who
is an avowed Christian, says:

"I assume that my esteemed readers are already aware of the

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 635

fact that Abbot Dionysius Exiguus, who in the sixth century calcu-
lated the Christian era according to which we still universally reckon
time, erred in his establishment of the year of Christ's birth, placing
it several years, probably five, if not seven, too late. It is positively
certain that Herod died in the year 4 before our era ; if, therefore,
Jesus was born during his reign — and there is no reason for doubting
this tradition — the conclusion is unavoidable that the date commonly
assigned for the birth of Christ is wrong. The place of Jesus's
birth is just as much a matter of uncertainty as the time ; and so is
the year of his death, — in this latter point reports and estimates
vary a matter of seven years, from 29 to 36 A. D.

"It is downright providential that we know so little from the
historical and biographical point of view concerning this greatest
life that was ever lived on earth. Thus every possibility is to be
precluded of our falling into the delusion that we know him in know-
ing the date of his birth and of his death and the outward circum-
stances of his life ; he is to stand before us simply in his work.

"The life and activity of Jesus fell into the period of Jewish
history which is to occupy our attention in this chapter, and his
activity was possible only on the soil of Israel and among the Jewish
people ; but yet a history of the people of Israel is not the place in
which to speak of him. He swept across the hopelessly darkened sky
of Israel like a meteor, flashing and vanishing; he had no effect
upon the history of the Jewish people, and the fact that he did not do
this, that he deliberately refused to do so, became, humanly speak-
ing, his doom."

Though Jesus was historical, though he was a real man, he
was not an historical figure. His life was passed in the obscurity
of a small sect without entering as a factor into the national life
of either Galilee or Judea, and his death at Jerusalem did not cause
a ripple in the history of the country ; but for all that he may have
existed and have been crucified. He may have played an important
part in the events of the Nazarene sect, a small community of dis-
senters who were a branch of, or kin to, the Essenes known to
Josephus and Pliny, and probably identical with the Ebionites, the
Sect of the Poor. This possibility, which we deem quite probable,
Professor Smith rejects as impossible, claiming that Josephus ought
to have known something of the fate of Jesus.

The Gospel of Mark, in spite of the many additions which a
mythological conception of the Messiah has introduced, appears to
contain a foundation of real facts. There are too many features of

636 THE MONIST.

a personal nature and too many statements incompatible with the
Messiah ideal which would not have been invented if the story were
purely mythological as Professor Smith assumes. We cannot help
assuming that the author was inspired by the belief in a real per-
sonality who lived in Galilee and died a martyr's death in Jerusalem.
He may have his information second hand which accounts for the
embellishment of miracle, and in addition to the Gospel of Mark
we have indications of the historicity of Jesus in Pauline literature.
Professor Smith may be right that the epistles of St. Paul are later
compilations, but for all that we must assume that their nucleus was
genuine, that Paul existed and though he did not know Jesus per-
sonally, he knew Peter, and he had heard of James, the brother of
Christ. Professor Smith tries to explain this expression and other
references to the family of Jesus by saying that the term brother
was more a title of religious respect, and that in a certain sense all
Christians were brothers of Christ, but I fear that his explanation
can not be accepted, for the text does not allow such interpretation.
These references in the New Testament to the family of Jesus are
the more important as they stand in contradiction to the early dogma
of the virgin birth of Jesus, and they were always a stumbling
block to the Roman Catholic theologians who tried their best to
weaken the force of these terms and to explain them away.

The editions of both Josephus and Tacitus contain passages on
Jesus Christ, of which however those in Josephus have been rejected
as later insertions. But the passage in Tacitus has scarcely been
questioned, and Professor Smith is the first to throw the shadow
of doubt upon this famous passage of the old truth-loving Roman
historian.

We discuss the problem of the Gospels and kindred subjects
in the current number of The Open Court, and will here only state
that we are not inclined to doubt the historicity of Jesus. We ac-
cept the theory of the pre-Christian Christ, and believe that the
features attributed to Christ have one by one been fixed upon the
figure and inserted into the story of Jesus. The people of the age
expected a Saviour who should accomplish certain things, should
undergo certain sufferings, should teach certain doctrines, should
fulfil the predictions of the prophets, and be distinguished by definite
occurrences.

We assume that there was a certain Galilean by the name of
Jesus, and that he was a leader in the sect of the Nazarenes. He was
a mental healer who according to the current theory of the times

CRITICISMS AND DISCUSSIONS. 637

believed that diseases were due to demons, and so he cured his pa-
tients by exorcism. We may fairly well assume that he often suc-
ceeded, but the Gospels contain indications that he also met with
disappointments. He had a contempt for the Gentiles and believed
in the absolute divinity of the Jewish law even to the diacritical
points of the Scriptures, but he hated its official representatives, the
scribes and Pharisees, whom he called a generation of vipers.

When Saul of Tarsus became convinced that this Jesus was the
Christ, the story of his life was seen in a new light and the notions
of the Christ were woven into it.

One of the most palpable inventions in the life of the expected
Saviour was the story of his persecution soon after his birth. Among
the pre-Christian saviours from the Hindu Krishna, the Buddhist
Gautama, the Persian Zoroaster, and the gods of Greek paganism,
there is no one in whose life the newborn babe has not been perse-
cuted by a wicked tyrant who feared to lose his throne on the advent
of a new hero. The story of the massacre of the innocents is in
all its main features identical with the slaughter of the babes in the
myth of Krishna, and also in the legend of Buddha. In order to be
proved to be the Christ, or the Saviour, or the Messiah, Jesus as a
babe had to experience the same persecution and so this same story
has been inserted into the Christian Gospels.

This we have granted, and Professor Smith has done much to
corroborate the truth of the pre-Christian Christ ideal, but in our
opinion he has not succeeded in proving the non-existence of Jesus
of Galilee who lived approximately at the time to which Christianity
assigns the life of Jesus. The Jesus of the Gospels must have been
born a little earlier than the year one of our era, and his death is
not merely based upon the authority of an obscure author but is
well accredited through the Pauline epistles, and the correctness of
the date as having taken place under Pontius Pilate can not easily
be doubted.

The strongest evidence in favor of the historicity of Jesus, in
our opinion, consists in the evidence we have in the statements of
the Gospels, that the Jesus of the Gospels in many respects did not
agree with the expectation of a universal Saviour. He was a Jew
and believed in the narrowest conception of Judaism as appears from
the anti-Gentile tendencies attributed to him in the New Testament,
and he believed that the day of judgment when the son of man
would come in the clouds of heaven was so near at hand that not all
of his audience who were listening to him would die before all

638 THE MONIST.

should be fulfilled. Such passages which are either contradictory
to fact or contradictory to the doctrines of the very earliest church
would never have been written if the story of Jesus had been pure
imagination. The church may have obliterated many kindred pas-
sages which contain statements no longer in harmony with its doc-
trines. That these traces were left in the Gospels is an indication of
the genuineness of the traditions of the New Testament, and there
are additional reasons which make it very improbable that the whole
Gospel story of Jesus should have been pure fiction. There is no
doubt that the Gospels contain mythical elements, but they are super-
added and we find no reason to doubt the historical foundation of
the story of Jesus.

Though we do not agree with Professor Smith we can not help
thinking that his theory should be fully investigated, and that it is
the duty of modern theologians to face the criticism squarely and to
dispose of it in one way or another.

We wish to say here that Professor Smith proposes to have his
book on the pre-Christian Jesus followed up by a new work, in which
he would contrast the idea of the historical and therefore human
Jesus with his conception of the origin of Christianity, according to
which the hero of the Gospel story would be a humanized god, and so
he would entitle his new work, not as Pilate said, "Ecce homo" but
"Ecce deus"

EDITOR.

PROFESSOR WILLIAM JAMES.

The unexpected death of Prof. William James has caused great
grief in the wide circle of his friends, and we read the sad news
with deep sorrow and sincere emotion. Professor James will be
missed by friends and antagonists for with all his faults as a thinker
he was a man of unusual genius, who by the very way in which
he attacked the problems in which he was interested stirred the
imagination and quickened the spirit of inquiry. Because of our
personal acquaintance, I hesitated very long before I ventured to
criticise him and I will say here that in spite of the attacks I made
on his position we remained the best of friends and exchanged
courteous letters. There is no need of repeating here the data of
his life since they are too well known and have been sufficiently
ventilated in the daily press.

EDITOR.

BOOK REVIEWS AND NOTES.

GESCHICHTE DES MONISMUS. Von Dr. Rudolf Eisler. Leipsic : Alfred Kroner,

1910. Pp. 204. Price, 3 m. ; bound 4 m.

The author wishes to serve the interests of both the supporters and an-
tagonists of monism by thus presenting the history of a unitary world-con-
ception. He speaks of monism in Greek antiquity with a short reference to
Indian monism, the monism of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, while
the bulk of the book is devoted to monism in modern times. This part (pp.
32-173) is divided into (a) Monism in the I7th and i8th Centuries, and (&)
Monism in the ipth Century. The latter is discussed under the heads of
of (i) Idealistic Monism and (2) Realistic Monism. The fourth part con-
tains an essay on "Idealistic Monism" which appears to represent the author's
own views. On page 172 he asks the question, Is the universe a unit or a
plurality? and answers that it is both at the same time. As a kind of appen-
dix he offers his readers notes and addenda which contain quotations or sum-
maries from monistic thinkers.

METHODOLOGISCHES UND PHILOSOPHISCHES ZUR ELEMENTAR-MATHEMATIC. Von

G. Mannoury. Haarlem : P. Visser, 1909. Pp. 279.

This volume contains a course of lectures delivered by Prof. G. Mannoury
of Amsterdam, Holland, on the foundation of mathematics. In the first part
it discusses the foundations of arithmetic, and in the second part the founda-
tions of geometry. The chapters of the first part treat (i) Unity and Multi-
plicity; (2) The Ideas of Number, Finiteness and Infinity; (3) The Charac-
teristic Feature of Arithmetic ; (4) The Generalization of the Idea of Number
and the Principle of Permanence, and (5) Irrational Numbers, Magnitude
and Number. The second part on the foundations of geometry discusses in
four chapters: (i) Mathematical Logic; (2) Geometrography and the Straight
Line; (3) Non-Euclidean Geometries; and (4) General Considerations of the
Concept of Space. As its motto the book bears a dictum of Friedrich Nietzsche
as follows : "The real material of all cognition are the most delicate sensations
of pleasure and pain."

ELEMENTS DE LA THEORIE DES PROBABILITIES. Par Etnile Borel. Paris: Her-
mann, 1909. Pp. 190. Price 6 fr.

The theory of probabilities is coming more and more into use in connec-
tion with many questions of physics, biology and economics. Those who thus
become interested in its application need to become acquainted with its meth-
ods in order to apply them to concrete questions, but are not interested in the
mathematical questions upon which they are founded. It is for those people

640 THE MONIST.

who wish to apply the theory of probabilities to practical questions that these
Elements have been written. The book can be understood from beginning to
end by any reader familiar with the definition of the determinate integral and
the concepts of algebra and geometry which this definition presupposes. The
work is divided into three parts dealing respectively with Discontinuous Prob-
abilities, Continuous Probabilities and Probabilities of Causes.

HERBERT SPENCER'S GRUNDLAGEN DER PHILOSOPHIE. Von Dr. P. Hdberlin.

Leipsic : Earth, 1908. Pp. 205. Price, 5.40 m.

In the author's opinion the world has been slow in recognizing the sig-
nificance of Spencer, and his influence upon the thought of the present and
the progress that has been made. He believes that this English philosopher
(whom he calls the "philosopher of evolution") has been especially ignored in
Germany, and in the present work he undertakes to offer a careful analysis
and critique of the First Principles. Some of the chapters treat of the nature
of philosophy and epistemological principles, so-called agnosticism and uni-
versal evolution.

OLD CRITICISM AND NEW PRAGMATISM. By J. M. O' Sullivan. Dublin : Gill,

1909.

Kant is here set forth as the exponent of the "old criticism," and after a
wordy comparison of the treatment of the category of quantity by Kant and
Hegel and a discussion of Kant's treatment of causation, the author finds it
possible to arrive by the implications of these characteristic doctrines of Kant
at the individualism and pluralism of pragmatism. He treats it as an episte-
mological method in its relation to criticism. Instead of finding pragmatism,
however, a valuable method to substitute for Kant's critical system he finds
that it grows increasingly inadequate and calls it a "confession of the futility
of all logic."

ABRISS DER GESCHICHTE DER PHILOSOPHIE. Von Chr. Joh. Deter, gth ed.

Berlin : Weber, 1910. Pp. 178. Price 3.20 m. Bound 4.20 m.
This very satisfactory summary of the history of philosophy has been re-
vised and brought up to date in its ninth .edition by Dr. Max Frischeisen-
Kohler. An explanatory index serves as a concise philosophical dictionary,
but lacks page references. A comprehensive list of names completes the
volume.

"Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a Forerunner of Pragmatism," which Prof. Albert
Schinz, of Bryn Mawr, contributed to The Monist of October 1909, has been
published in pamphlet form by The Open Court Publishing Company. A
number of typographical errors in the Monist article which inadvertently oc-
curred through delayed proofs, are here corrected, and many passages have
been otherwise revised and altered by the author. Three Appendices, "Rous-
seau and Condillac," "Rousseau and Madame de Genlis," and "An Unknown
Phase of Rousseau's Thought," have been added to the original form of the
essay and contain many interesting points. The "Unknown Phase" men-
tioned in the third appendix is the fact that "Rousseau seems to be in favor
of pragmatic ignorance for the masses, while holding that for the select few,
science is desirable and desirable in the interest of all."

B The Monist

v.20

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